Combustion
by inthelookingglass
Summary: Unable to function properly under the weight of the secret upon his shoulders, Connor finally confesses.
1. Confession

**This is kind of inspired by spoilers(very vaguely?)/a bit of a character study... but enjoy:)**

Connor's heart was pounding in his chest. His eyes fixated on a blank spot in the wall, willing to look anywhere apart from at the girl who sat beside him, and every blink seemed to last minutes, as if he was savouring what little solace he found in the isolation of the darkness. It wasn't as if he didn't want to speak to Imogen; the complete opposite, actually. But the guilt had became him, seeping into every inch of his being. The words sat uncomfortably in his throat as he caught a glance of her scarred neck before looking away surreptitiously and it took everything he had not to blurt it out in front of her.

"Connor, the answer please?" Mr Clarkson stared at him, awaiting an answer.

"Um..." he glanced towards the board, hoping the question would be up there. "Sorry sir, wasn't listening."

"Well thank you for the brilliant observation, Sherlock. The question was what is Macbeth contemplating at this point in the play."

"Killing the king?" he shot a wild guess.

"Yes, now Imogen, where is the dramatic irony in Macbeth's entrance?" and Connor zoned out again, harbouring no interest in the lesson at all and not really in the mood to hear Imogen's voice.

The lighter felt heavy in his pocket. He hardly even knew why he still had it, yet for reasons unbeknownst to him, he couldn't seem to bring himself to get rid of it. The same familiar urge; the same urge that was entirely responsible for how he was feeling. He'd have killed for it to have been him hurt in the fire instead of Imogen. He deserved it, or at least he felt like he did. The thought of what he desired to do crept even further into his mind as the guilt overcame him. All he could think of was orange. Orange and yellow and red. The colours flickered madly, making it impossible to think of anything else. He could even smell the smoke swirling in his nostrils. He couldn't stop himself now. He knew his thoughts would never rest until something was burning away.

"Dude, what's up with you today?" Kevin punched his arm playfully as they left. "It's like you're a...zombie or something."

"Just...stuff," he waved away the concern. "Come on, Diamond will freak if we're late for chemistry."

"Really? You're actually caring about being late for chemistry? Now I'm really _worried,_" he laughed as they headed towards the science corridor. "But I'm being serious, you completely zoned out in there."

"Macbeth's just really dull, I guess."

"You've not sorted things out with Imogen yet, have you?"

"Nope."

"Then I don't see why you're moping around like its the end of the world if you can't even speak to her about it."

"It's complicated."

Complicated didn't even cover it.

"Look, if something's on your mind I'll make some excuse to Miss Diamond if you don't want to go to class? Go and clear your head, mate."

"Thanks," he turned on his heels hastily and darted the other way.

He was shaking, the urge to pull the lighter out of his pocket and let it set the building alight becoming more and more desperate. He pulled it from his pocket and flicked it, the small little spark providing just a little bit of fulfilment, yet without the act of destruction, the tiny flame barely distracted him. He shoved it back in his trouser pocket again, continuing to walk briskly down the hall to try and regain himself.

"Connor, shouldn't you be in class?" he barely noticed Miss McFall's presence until she heard his voice.

"I-..." he stopped, trying to think of an excuse.

"Are you alright? You look a little unsettled.

"I-I'm fine... I just..." And for a moment, he felt the words trickle against his lips, threatening to slip out.

"I don't have a class at the moment, if you need to talk about whatever is bothering you."

He didn't even need to respond; he just bowed his head in silence, wandered into the classroom and took a seat on one of the tables. He could hear Miss McFall walk towards him, although he couldn't bring himself to look up. He was just thankful he didn't have to go to Chemistry and put up a happy front for another hour which was far from the dark reality of the thoughts running through his brain.

"Has something happened with your mother?" he almost laughed, because for once, his mum was the least of his problems.

"No," he stated, his mind swaying between telling the truth, or making up yet more lies, digging himself an even bigger hole. "It's the... the..."

"If you're not comfortable speaking about whatever it is, I do not mind. I am merely concerned about your welfare."

"The fire," his breathing pace quickened, knowing that if he was to talk further he'd burst into tears. "I-... I started the fire."

He felt like his heart was about to jump out of his chest as he awaited the history teacher's response. He finally lifted his head, watching as she removed her glasses from the bridge of her nose and sighed, trying to think of how to reply. He couldn't hold the tears back much longer, letting them drip down his cheeks. The guilt was now pulsing through his veins, removing most of his earlier considerations of starting another fire. He clenched his eyes shut as the image of Imogen's face refused to leave him.

"You're going to have to tell Mr Byrne, I know," his voice quivered. "I'm sorry-"

"I think it's up to you to tell Mr Byrne yourself," Miss McFall finally spoke. "It's important that Imogen finds out from you first, Connor."


	2. Consequences

**Like I've said, this story is a bit of a character study, so it (maybe) jumps a little. I felt like dragging it all on would mean never getting straight to the point, so this is set just after the latest episode which has been shown(so spoilers) where Connor finally tells Imogen.  
**

* * *

And just like Audrey had told him, he finally told Imogen the truth. For a second, he had just a little bit of hope that everything okay. But she ran. She looked at him with disgust and ran. He felt like the world was tearing apart beneath him; what with his mum, and the business with his 'dad' and now finally, the last straw. He'd have chased her, but there was no point.

Again, the lighter was calling out in his pocket. Yet that was partly why he was in such a mess. He couldn't. Could he?

The leaves beneath his feet crumbled as the flame touched against them, acting as the perfect fuel for the fire. Connor wiped his brow, feeling the rising heat plaster his hair to his face. He couldn't see the leaves anymore, or the woods at all. He found himself in that art classroom, with his project burning away below him. Brought back to reality after what seemed like hours, he managed to damp out the thankfully small fire. He crashed back down onto the bench, feeling his head pound with his overwhelming situation. And he sobbed. He sobbed for his mother, and for Imogen, but most of all, he sobbed for the fact that he would never be able to piece anything together. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket, and pulled it out to read the text from his mum.

_Where are you? I need to speak to you._

Although he felt like he'd never be able to face the truth, his feet seemed to drag him back home. Maybe he was just seeking some form of comfort, or his subconscious guilt had goaded him into doing so.

"I'm sorry mum," he mouthed, his whole body shaking as he hugged his mum. "I heard. I heard you speaking to Mr Byrne."

"Connor-" she went to speak, her eyes widening with fear.

"Can we-... Can we not talk about it? I just want to start again; a new leaf. No more lies, no more secrets. Just us, being truthful with each other," he received an understanding -and frankly relieved- nod in response.

He was sensible enough not to drop the bombshell that he'd told Imogen, no matter how much he needed to confide in someone; talk about kicking someone when they're down.

"You're okay, aren't you?" Christine placed a comforting hand on his knee. "I mean, this day hasn't exactly been great for you either."

"Yeah," he smiled half heartedly. "Just worried about you, is all."

...

As usual, when Connor walked into school after the weekend, he didn't exactly care that his face was tripping him. He just wanted to get the day over and done with, and curl back up in bed and hide away from the world. As far as he knew, Imogen hated his guts. She'd completely rained down on him when they saw each other by the gates, and now she was trying the 'avoid and ignore' tactic. He didn't blame her. He was poison.

"Well hello, Mr moody pants," Kevin appeared at the lockers beside him. "You know, if the wind blows your face will stay like that."

"Shut up," he waved him away.

"What's up, mate? I'm here to listen."

"I-... I told Imogen," after telling Miss McFall, he'd also managed to confide in Kevin. "She-... I... I just seem to ruin everything."

"If she doesn't forgive you- and she has every right not to- then you'll have to learn to deal with it."

"It's not that... I just seem to ruin everything. I'm... I'm bad news. You shouldn't be wasting your time talking to me."

"You're not one of the bad guys! You're decent- you've just... not had much luck in your life."

"What about what's going on with you? What's happening with Chalk?"

"Can we not-"

"Kevin..."

"We're just not getting on like how I'd hoped. Another foster parent failure, I guess."

...

"Everything okay?" Dynasty whispered to Imogen as they sat in history, waiting for Miss McFall.

"I'm fine," she smiled, but whilst it was genuine, she felt just a little bit disheartened. "Just got a lot on my mind."

"Connor? Don't waste your time on him. If you're not one hundred percent sure that he's worth it, then he's not worth it."

Thankfully, Connor wasn't in the class, for reasons unbeknownst to Imogen.

"It's like..." she stopped for a minute. "Don't tell anyone what I'm about to tell you, please."

"I won't, I promise."

"He started the fire, Dynasty," Imogen sighed. "I don't want to get back with him- no chance in hell! I just want him to not act like nothing is wrong, and that our relationship is salvageable. I mean... we were great, but we're never going to have that again. He lied. He lied through his teeth. He was the one who ruined my life, not Mrs Mulgrew. He's... he's too messed up."

Kevin stared down at his table, overhearing the conversation. He wouldn't repeat a word of it to Connor. He didn't want to upset his friend even further. He looked up to see him in the corridor, talking to Miss McFall.

...

"Sorry I'm late, Miss," he sighed deeply. "Had to go speak to mum."

"How's she doing?" she asked, with genuine concern.

"Okay. She's just in to speak with Mr Byrne this morning and arrange some class plans, I think. She's going to stay off for a bit, and actually... you know... recover. Thank you for last week, I forgot to say."

"How about you? You seem awfully down..."

"I'm... I told Imogen. She's angry. Really angry," he almost broke down again. "And I think she's going to tell Michael... I don't... I don't want to be locked up."


	3. Accusation

It was just Connor's luck that he so happened to be in almost every one of Imogen's classes. He wanted nothing more than it to be normal again; for them to be able to just talk like nothing at all had happened. The space surrounding him seemed to grow larger and larger, and although it didn't seem possible, he felt even more isolated than he'd ever felt before. He couldn't just dump all of his doubts and fears on his mum like he usually did, partly because she had her own stuff to deal with, and partly because she was the source of some of his problems. Whilst he could confide a little in Kevin, he wasn't exactly comfortable with pouring his heart out to him. Normally, he'd talk to Imogen, yet for obvious reasons, it was an option he would never dare to consider.

"It's going to be okay," he'd forgotten he was even talking to Miss McFall until he heard her voice. "Go and sit down, and if you need to talk later on, I'm happy to help."

He just nodded and walked into the classroom, collapsing onto his chair beside Kevin. As Kevin tried to make conversation with him, he pretended to be focusing on the work in front of him, when in fact he barely cared much about school these days.

"So you're going to ignore me then?" Kevin turned away from him. "Don't push people away when they're trying to help you, mate."

...

"Why are you letting him get you down?" Dynasty demanded as they walked around the corridors during their free study period.

"I miss him," she shook her head. "We were... We were better than great before, and it just upsets me that we've gotten to the stage where we don't even talk anymore."

"Then speak to him; sort it out! Only you can fix things with him."

"But...-" she pointed to her neck. "He did this. It's like I'm being torn apart. On one hand, I just want us to be back to normal again, but on the other, I just look at him and can't but think what he did."

"If it helps, he didn't do it deliberately. The guy's not right in the head, Imogen, but I've got to admit, he's a good guy. If you think he's worth it, then try and sort things out with him. Fix things as friends first, and if both of you feel comfortable then go ahead."

"Thank you," Imogen smiled genuinely.

Imogen was torn. As much as she liked him, the thought of him being the cause of the scar on her neck made her blood run cold. Not only that, but the fact that he'd ran from the truth instead of facing up to it was something she'd never be able to bring herself to forgive him for. Somehow, it had made her think that he believed the self inflicted guilt he had to contend with outweighed the struggle she'd had to face since the fire. This wasn't exactly the case, as part of the reason he'd distanced himself so much is because he didn't want to hurt her more than he'd already done.

There was also the overwhelming urge to spill the beans to Mr Byrne which she'd been plagued with, and she couldn't erase the idea from her mind, not once it had planted itself in her brain. If anyone else had found out and decided to go to the police, the fact that Imogen knew and didn't confess could have had incomprehensible circumstances.

"Imogen, may I speak with you for a moment?" she heard Miss McFall coming over.

"Of course," she shoved her locker shut and followed the teacher. "What is it that you wanted to ask me about. If it's about the essay, I just left the copy in my locker-"

"It's about what Connor has told you."

"You knew?"

"Connor confided in me last week about what happened. I would just like to know how you are handling the news, as I'm concerned."

"I'm fine. Just... angry I guess. I-... See if someone finds out, and they realise that people knew but didn't pipe up about it-"

"It's your choice whether you tell Mr Byrne, Imogen. I just want you to consider-"

"I'm telling him," Imogen stated calmly. "I don't want Connor to drag me down with him. Again."

...

To say that Michael was finding it hard to concentrate that week would've been an understatement; he was all over the place. He'd found it difficult to distance himself from what Christine had told him, and the whole confusing situation was hard for him to deal with. Lorraine had tried to pitch some knew idea for a robot competition, but he gave her nothing more than a few uneducated 'yeses' and nods. When she'd finally left, he was looking forward to being alone for a while, although he'd have to wait because standing talking to Sonia was one of the students, Imogen Stewart.

"Come in, Imogen," he opened the door, sighing heavily. "What do you want to speak to me about?"

"It's about the fire," she spoke quietly.

"Everything okay?"

"Miss Mulgrew didn't start the fire, sir. Connor did."

"This is a serious accusation. Is this the truth?"

"He told me himself. He admitted it. He wasn't just taking the blame for his mum or anything."

"Sonia, would you ask for Connor Mulgrew to come down to the office?" Michael opened his door for a second. "The police will have to be called. This is a serious matter."


	4. Hope

During his own free study period after history, Connor had headed towards his mother's classroom, hoping that she hadn't left yet. Thankfully, she was sitting at her desk, sorting out lesson plans for whoever would be covering her classes. She looked up at him, smiling, and called him over. He forced a half smile and sighed, pulling the strap of his bag further up his shoulder.

"Everything okay?" her smile faded as she noticed his expression. "Connor..."

"I told her, mum," his voice broke as he stood against the door, not daring to step much closer.

"Please tell me you didn't, Connor," she walked towards him, her face paling.

"Don't. Just don't."

"How did it go?"

"She hates me; hates me with a fervent passion."

"I told you not to tell her, didn't I?"

"I didn't want my life to be dictated by yet more lies! Especially after last week."

"Ah... well, we can't change the past now, can we?" she placed her hand on his arm comfortingly. "You've told her now, and I can't change it..."

"I just... I thought I'd stop feeling like I'm a bad person; that I'm not heartless and that even though I did something crappy, I'm not a crappy person-"

"Connor-"

"It's still just the same. I deserve to feel this guilty! I deserve to feel like I've ruined the only good things I had in life; because I have!"

"Connor Mulgrew?" the recognizable voice of Sonia, the school secretary could be heard from down the hall. "Mr Byrne wants to see you in his office. Oh, and Mrs Mulgrew! He was going to call you in, but if you're here, he wants to speak with you too."

...

Imogen sat in the room outside of Michael's office, awkwardly staring at the ground as she awaited Connor's arrival. As much as it felt like she was betraying him a little, she knew that it was the best thing she could have done. She was sick of letting him be responsible for ruining parts of her her life, and if she'd got in trouble for harbouring the truth, it would most definitely count as one of those occasions. Her head shot up as the door creaked open, her heart pounding nervously about how the boy would react.

He slid through the door, his mother and Sonia following behind him. Silently, he took a seat on the other side of the room. Just one look at her, and he knew fine well why he was there. The thick ball of anxiety working its way up his oesophagus made him feel nauseous, and his stomach churned familiarly with the guilt that made its way through his system. Imogen looked over momentarily, although she didn't waver from her confirmation that she'd done the tight thing.

"Christine?" Michael sighed, signalling with his head for her to join him in his office.

Without the comfort of his mother, Connor felt completely and utterly alone. Normally, the introverted kid would thrive from the isolation, yet now his heart was pining for some form of company that didn't include someone shouting at him, lying against him, or ultimately betraying him completely. His throat tightened as he watched his mum speaking with the head teacher, trying read what they were saying.

"Why?" the words slipped out of his mouth, as if he had no control over his words. "Why did you tell him?"

"Why should I let you drag me down?" Imogen uttered in response. "I told him for _me_. Do you think I want to risk not getting into university or being able to get a good job just because you got angry and started a fire?"

Sonia would've stopped them, but her lack of authority and frankly, her slightly apprehensive nature prevented her from doing so.

"They wouldn't do that-"

"Something like harbouring the truth about a criminal offence could be put on my permanent record. Why would I risk that for you? You have to come clean in there."

"I'm sorry-"

"Sorry? This won't be sorted over a measly little _'sorry_'! You need help! You need to sort yourself out!"

"And how am I meant to do that when I'm just going to get shoved into jail? And even if I'm not, my future will be ruined-"

"I-"

"It'll have been ruined by you."

His words were cold, almost void of feeling. He just looked empty, his face pale and grey, and his jutting cheekbones seemed to protrude even more than usual.

"This is a good thing. Starting fires isn't a good coping mechanism- maybe they'll get someone to help you."

The silence filled the room, as they both watched the two adults talking in the office. Neither of them were able to properly judge the exact tone of the discussion, so when they finally unearthed after what felt like hours, both of the pair had their eyes fixed on them with anticipation.

"Connor, would you please join us?" Mr Byrne called him in.

...

"I need you to admit to starting the fire," Mr Byrne stated calmly. "Or else there is no case."

"I..." he stared at his hands. "If I admit it, I'll be charged, right?"

"I've not called the police yet. I do not see the point in threatening your future, when the case is completely settled already."

"T-... Thank...Thank you," he managed to force out, sighing with relief.

"But," his heart rose in his chest at the word. "Your mother and I think you'd benefit from some time in the Pupil Referral Unit. Whilst it would act as a suiting punishment for what you did, I think it's the best thing. You've been struggling with some issues lately, and I think it's obvious from how you've been performing in class that it's all getting too much for you."

He didn't even dare to protest. How could he, when he was being given such a huge second chance? He knew that if he carried on like he had been, he'd be failing every single one of his exams at the end of the year, and completely thrown away the need for Mr Byrne's concern for his future. He had been silenced, not sure whether to speak.

"I-I'm..." and for the first time in a while, he let them see him fall apart; and boy did he break. "I'm so sorry."

"Come on," Christine smiled nervously towards him, trying to cheer him up a little. "Everything's going to get better from now on."

"C-can... Can we just go?"

"I'll get Sonia to change you to absent," Michael noted.

"I need to go to my locker before we go," Connor turned towards his mum. "Go wait in the car."

...

Shoving his books into his bag, Connor just wanted to go home already. He kept his head down, half tempted to cover his face with his hood so as not to be noticed.

"Connor!" Imogen called after him.

"I-I... I need to go," he tried getting the books out of his locker faster but his plan to make a quick getaway was brought to a halt when they crashed down onto the floor.

"What happened?"

"Mr Byrne isn't telling the police. The case is over. Nobody is getting charged. He doesn't see the point."

"For definite? I-... I won't get in trouble from the police for knowing?"

"Of course not."

"I'm sorry, okay? I just needed to put my needs above yours for once."

"I... I don't care that you told him."

"I don't hate you, you know."

She smiled at him, for the first time in what seemed like months. In that moment, all he wanted was for them to be back to how they'd been before. The realisation that this idea was nothing more than a fantasy, he threatened to crumble again, and had to remain silent to stop the tears from spilling over. Imogen took a step back, realising that he was a little unsettled and sighed.

"Before we can even think of solving things with us, I think you need to sort what's going on in your life first."

"I know."

"I'm sorry, okay? I was angry; and I had every right to be! You caused the accident that could've ruined my life; but now that I think about it, the fire ruined yours more than it did mine."

"What life?" he laughed half heartedly. "I'm sorry, you know. I'm really sorry."

"Can we be friends for now?" she grinned. "And then see what happens?"

"I'd like that," he sighed, leaning in to the hug she was offering.


	5. Urge

"You look happier," Christine smiled in her son's direction as he slid himself into the passenger seat of the car. "Has something changed?"

"Imogen's not mad at me," he pulled his seatbelt on. "Or maybe she is, but... she doesn't hate me."

"Michael said you're starting in the PRU tomorrow, and he'll get your teachers to pass on work for you to do there."

And his smile began to fade. He knew it would help. He really did. He just thought he'd never let it get to him like that. He thought he was dealing, although his recently failed tests in subjects he usually did well in, and in particular, the quality of his coursework in art due to his apathy said otherwise. He knew that if he didn't pull everything together, he'd find it difficult to even scrape a pass in the upcoming mock examinations let alone excel in them, but it didn't prevent the little fall of the heart that came with the realisation that he was being removed from class. A fitting punishment, he thought, for the destruction he caused, although it could have been argued that he'd suffered enough as a result, what with the guilt that plagued him and the whole reason he'd done it in the first place.

He couldn't relate his state of mind from that day to his current mind set. Sure, he still had constant urges to go and burn something, but he couldn't bring himself to think of doing so like he did in such a careless manner. Maybe it was the fact that such apathetic behaviour had brought him so much pain, but he just couldn't see himself not making sure that firstly, nobody caught him in the act, and secondly, that under no circumstances, that nobody- except maybe himself- was to get hurt. It made him sick to his stomach that he didn't scream at her to get out. If only he had, and she'd listened, he'd have probably got the burning hot paint splattered against his neck instead. But obviously, he'd made too many mistakes; he'd let it happen. He was too caught up in his own selfish little mind to stop those around him from getting hurt. How Imogen had even considered forgiving him, he couldn't begin to comprehend.

And again, the urge took over. Connor's skin felt cold, and he knew that the only thing that would warm him would be the rising heat of burning below him. He pulled his sleeves further down his arms, desperately trying to retain some of the heat still left in his body. His nostrils flared, desperately seeking the burning smell that had grown to be so comforting to him. Feeling slightly nauseous by his sudden desire, he stared out of the window, breathing deeply as he tried to calm himself down and refrain from giving himself what he wanted.

"Connor?" he heard his mother's voice, but wasn't in the mood to answer. "You were happy before... I shouldn't ever leave you in your own head, should I?"

"M'fine," he mumbled, faking a smile to try and prove his lie. "Long day."

"You were there for no longer than two hours- I want the truth."

"I'm just overwhelmed by what happened today.

"I know it's been difficult, son, but it's going to get better."

...

"In groups, I'd like you to make notes on the first act as a whole," Mr Clarkson stood at the board, book clutched in his hand. "And _please_, don't take this as an opportunity to just sit back and have a gossip!"

"Now that's just asking for it, sir," Kevin sarcastically smiled.

"Kevin, could you come talk to me for a second?"

"I promise, I didn't do anything!" he joked, walking towards the front of the class.

"Where's Connor? He was definitely in this morning," he lowered his voice to a whisper.

"I've hardly seen him today. He wasn't himself in history then he vanished last period," Kevin shrugged, wandering back to his group with Imogen and Dynasty. "Went home sick, probably."

"Lady Macbeth convinces him to kill the king," Dynasty suggested, to which Kevin and Imogen nodded.

"And he doesn't want to, but she goes on to tell him he's not a man if he doesn't," Imogen spoke while writing her notes down. "Finished."

"Where is Connor, really?" Dynasty turned to Kevin.

"Honestly, I don't know."

"You're hopeless, you are."

"He was at his locker just before break, just about to leave," Imogen bit her lip, trying to think why. "Stuff happened. No wonder he's away home."

"What stuff?"

"I-... I told Mr Byrne. I didn't want to get in trouble myself."

"And?"

"Nothing. He's doing nothing about it- there's no point."

As much as she wanted to distance herself as much as possible from him, Imogen couldn't help but feel concerned about Connor. Whilst the moodiness always seemed like an act, he was much more genuinely vulnerable than he let on. When everything was going well, she'd seen him at his lowest of lows, screaming and bawling and sobbing as he poured his heart out to her. She could only dream about what he'd be like with only his mum now to console him. This wasn't her reason for befriending him again though, as this was down to what she wanted for herself. She couldn't lose such a good friend, even over something as awful as this.

...

The urge was getting worse, making his heart rate race, and his blood run even colder, if that was even possible. He curled up on the sofa, avoiding his mother who was making lunch in the kitchen. He couldn't bring himself to join her, knowing the sight of the blue-orange flames on the gas hob would only make it harder to resist.

"What's wrong, Connor?" Christine stood at the door frame as she waited for the food to cook. "Are you feeling ill? Or is something on your mind?

He just shrugged, feeling the words tangling in his throat as the urge became even more desperate. As much as he couldn't fight this urge, he didn't exactly want to give into it. Every time it crossed his mind, his brain flashed right back to that day and was full of images of Imogen's scar, and the sad faces cast upon everyone he had loved as a result.

"It's been a long day," she spoke again, when she realised he wasn't going to reply. "You go get some rest, okay?"


	6. Bad Day

As it edged towards the end of the day, Tom Clarkson was anticipating for the bell to ring. With Christine absent for the next few weeks, he'd been left with the burden of having to find cover for her classes, and after a long day of having to make sure someone was in charge of the kids, he was completely and utterly drained. He still had to meet with Casey Barry once his last class of the day was over, but he didn't mind that too much, as for the past few days, all it took was to sit there and let her read for a bit. The bell finally rang, and he all but pushed the unruly group of year nines out of the room.

Slowly, he began making his way towards the Pupil Referral Unit, only to run into Mr Byrne on the way.

"Tom, could I have a word?" Michael stopped him. "It's about Connor Mulgrew."

"I was going to ask about what happened to him- he didn't show up third period-"

"Starting tomorrow, he's going to be in the PRU."

"His marks have taken a dip lately, but that's a bit of an extreme measure, don't you think?"

"He's struggling, and both he and his mother- and I too- believe that this is the best thing."

"What has this got to do with me, anyway?"

"I just want you to keep an eye on him, and drill into his brain that he needs to realise that even though the situation at home isn't great, that his A Levels are incredibly important and he can't slack off like he has been."

...

The news about Connor spread like a virus, and just hours after the school day was over, most of the school had found out through one way or another. His phone flooded with texts. Most of which were a pile of not so funny jokes, with only three containing genuine concern. The first was Scout, who- although obviously curious as to why he was being put into the PRU- asked him if he was okay. The second was of course from his good friend Kevin, who mentioned that he was worrying about him, and asking if he'd be back in tomorrow. The third was from Imogen. Just looking at her name made everything seem so much worse. How could she care about someone as poisonous as him?

To answer Kevin's question, he wasn't in school the next day. A night's sleep had done nothing more than add fuel to his desire for fire, which left him as a shivering, nervous mess. Christine came to the conclusion that he was ill, and he saw no point in correcting her. His mind was split; he wanted the awful feeling to go away and he knew that setting something alight would be the only way, but he desperately didn't want to have to deal with the thoughts running through his head.

"Connor," Christine stepped into his room. "I'm worried."

"M'okay," he mumbled as he curled up further in his bed, desperately trying to calm his breathing down a little. "Just-..."

"Just what?"

"The fire," he sighed deeply, sitting up. "All I can think about is the fire..."

"Just having one of those days?" she ruffled his hair gently, as he nodded quietly in response. "And I thought everything was looking up?"

"It's just... I feel guilty that Imogen's trying to sort things out with me, even after what I did to her."

Christine wrapped her arms around him, trying to comfort him a little. And finally, he felt warm again. There was the difference between then and now. Before, most forms of comforting warmth were absent from his life, so he almost always felt like he had to turn to the hazardous cosiness of the rising heat of fire. Now, his mother was a much more positive figure in his life, despite the slip up the week before, and most of the time, he felt like he'd be able to turn to her.

...

"I thought you told me Connor Mulgrew would be in the PRU starting this morning, Michael!" Nikki shook her head in distress as she stepped into Mr Byrne's office. "He hasn't shown up to class!"

"Sonia, I thought I told you to tap in the electronic registration system!" he called out to the secretary. "He won't be in. He's not well."

"Are you sure he isn't just truanting, Michael?"

"Christine phoned in this morning- he really wasn't himself."

"He better be in tomorrow..." Nikki sighed, before making a swift exit. "There's no point putting the effort in, if he's not even going to make the effort to come into school."

"Nikki, the boy can't help being ill. He'll be in tomorrow, and if he isn't I'm sure he will have a genuine reason for not being able to be in attendance. He was off for a while at the start of the year- maybe it has something to do with that?"

And it did; albeit, not in the context that he was thinking. He was absent with the same awful bout of absolutely nothing.

...

As it so happened, Imogen too was having a bad day. Her mother had asked her whether she was going to wear a scarf just as she was about to leave the house, and whilst the only reason she asked this was because it was cold, she managed to take it the wrong way, and for the first time since Dynasty had given her a little boost of self esteem, she properly noticed her scar when she looked in the mirror before she left the house. She walked briskly towards the school, her eyes darting around to make sure nobody was looking at her or laughing at her, before tightening the scarf she'd decided to wear a little.

"Oi, Imogen!" she turned to see Dynasty running towards her. "What's up with you?"

"Bad day," she shrugged. "Not feeling too self confident, I guess."

"You look fine! Stop fussing!"

"It's just... this," she pointed to her face. "I completely forgot about it and then... today it's just on my mind."

"You look absolutely fine, Imogen! Believe me."

She knew that if she'd let herself dwell on it that morning, that she'd be throwing away her life like it didn't matter; she had to suck it up and realise that she couldn't let things outwith her control bother her. She had to walk into school with her head held high, so that's what she did. Smiling by the time she reached her locker, she felt just as empowered as she had felt just days before.

...

"Mum?" Connor finally tested the waters outwith the safe proximity of his room. "I'm sorry I told Imogen."

"Connor, it was killing you trying to keep it a secret. You were going to tell her at some point or another, and if you didn't... well that's just say I'd never forgive myself..."

"Today... and last night... I-" he paused, words escaping him again. "I wanted to start another fire. N-not... not like that. Just... Just small. I... I was thinking about things, and I was angry...mostly at myself... and... before, whenever I was upset, I began turning to... to starting the fires... It was like... fire was slowly becoming to me, what alcohol was to you... and I guess I'm just having trouble kicking the juice..."

"Connor-" she took a deep breath in. "If you're upset about anything at all, I want you to come to me, and talk to me about it. I won't be mad, I just don't want you to do anything you're going to live to regret. And if it's me you're upset over, find someone to talk to. Just don't... don't fall victim to that urge, okay? Starting fires is no way to deal with your problems."

"I know... It was just... so difficult to feel that awful, and know that one of the only things that was going to sort it was that... And the worst part is, the fact I even wanted to go start another fire made me feel... disgusted with myself. I didn't want to, but... in some way, it was like I was desperate to..."

"I'll fix you something to eat, okay? You go relax for a bit, eh?"

"Not hungry," he shrugged, wandering back through to his room, reaching for his phone as he noticed he had a text from Kevin.

_Where are you? Come on, the PRU won't be that bad. Please, I really need somebody to talk to._

_..._

Christine was in the kitchen, plating up a few sandwiches when she heard her son's feet thudding down the stairs.

"Seen my tie?" his hair was dishevelled and his toothbrush was hanging out of the side of his mouth.

"On the door handle," she pointed it out. "I see you've changed your mind about school then."

"I need to face what I've done," he shrugged, grabbing the tie and proceeding to tie it.

"Look ill. I said to Mr Byrne that you were ill," she laughed. "I'll give him a call and say you're coming in now. Need a lift?"

"Do you mind?"

"Course not, come on."


	7. Outburst

Connor managed to get into school at around break time, and headed towards his locker partly to organize what books he might need, and partly to regain his confidence, which had been dashed slightly by the realisation that he'd have to be holed up in the PRU for the whole day instead of being in class. Just as he was about to head towards Mr Byrne's office to find out what would be happening, he saw Kevin walking briskly down the hall, looking slightly out of sorts

"Oi, Kevin," he grabbed his arm and called him over.

"You're in!" his frown grew to a small smile.

"What's up? You seem-"

"I... I found files on Chalky's laptop while using it for the robot," he stared down towards the floor. "He isn't who he says he is. He changed his whole identity- and... I'm just-"

"Connor, my office," their conversation was interrupted by Mr Byrne, who just so happened to be walking past.

It was all beginning to set in and seem real now, and now that he really thought about it, he really didn't want to be going into the Pupil Referral Unit. In all fairness, it was partly down to his understandable hatred of the one and only Barry Barry, but it was also down to his growing doubt in his ability to handle situations without turning his life into a complete and utter shambles.

"How are you feeling?" Michael noticed the shakiness in the boy's stance, although he didn't know whether this was associated with nerves. "Your mother sounded very worried on the phone this morning."

"I'm okay," he nodded.

"I hope you know that if the PRU doesn't work out, and you slip up in any way, shape or form, I'll be contacting the police to say that you confessed."

"I know."

"I'm only doing this because I believe in second chances, and I believe that you deserve one. Nikki will be up to-...Looks like she's right on time," he welcomed her into the office as she arrived.

"Come on," she tilted her head to signal for him to leave the room. "I'm glad you decided to come in."

"Sorry about that," he sighed as they headed down the corridor.

"I've organised some work from each of your teachers, and I'd like you to work individually today on completing a chunk of it. I'll be there to help of course, but I know you're more than capable. I understand from speaking to Michael, that distractions within class are responsible for the fall in grades, so hopefully being removed from that environment for a while will help," Connor just nodded sheepishly. "If they get a free period, some of your teachers may drop in to speak with you, but don't bet on it, Although Mr Clarkson will definitely show his face, I think."

"Ok," he nodded, fidgeting with the strap of his bag on his shoulder anxiously.

He was met with the curious eyes of the other pupils as he stepped into the unit, before taking a seat at one of the completely empty tables in the corner. He noticed Scout furrowing her brow in his direction, trying to decipher exactly why he'd been placed in the PRU. Jade also looked slightly concerned, but the same couldn't be said about the two Barry's, who both took one look at him and smirked in unison; fresh meat to mess with.

"Miss what's he doing here?" Barry's voice was loud and intimidating. "I thought this place was for the numpties like us?"

"First things first, none of you are stupid or 'numpties' as you've put it- I've said before that you're here because we feel like you'd perform better here instead of in mainstream classes. And secondly, Connor is here for that exact same reason, so would you all _please _get back to work!"

Connor zoned out a little as he started working through the pile of work he'd been given from his class teachers, as Nikki taught some other lesson to the other pupils. A while later as it neared lunch, he was thankful that Mr Clarkson had arrived. He took him back through to his empty classroom to fill him in on what the class would be doing while he was in the PRU.

"I don't quite understand Mr Byrne's reasoning for putting you in the PRU," Mr Clarkson admitted, standing in front of his desk. "But I want you to take a look at this essay you handed in for your folio, and try and tell me that the standard of your work hasn't been slipping."

He held the piece of paper in his hand. It was the discursive essay he'd written the week that school started back up again. He'd written it in such a hurry having spent so much time thinking about the fire and Imogen rather than school, the night before he finally found the courage to show his face. He could barely even remember what he'd written about, let alone whether it was any good, but as he sat there, wincing with embarrassment at the clumsy expressions and unfathomable spelling mistakes and the general messiness of his words, he was now sure he had a pretty good idea.

"I know," he placed the essay down on the desk in front of him and clasped his hands together. "I'm sorry."

"You're better than this, Connor," Tom's tone softened slightly. "You need to start working harder if you want to pass your A-Levels."

"I understand."

"Is there something in particular that is distracting you? I understand your situation at home hasn't been the best, but you can't let that affect your school work-"

"You have no idea, do you?" Connor's voice became much louder, and he sounded much hastier than the mousy, quietness he'd adopted before. "It's not as easy as just working through it, or shoving it all under the carpet and not letting it get to you!"

"Connor-"

"No! Can't I just go back to the PRU now?"

"I need to give you the notes on Macbeth-"

"Then give me them, and let me go instead of giving me a stupid lecture about stuff I have already been told a million times!"

"Connor, I don't know what is responsible for your change in attitude recently, but I am not happy with your behaviour," his reply was nothing but a shrug. "Mr Byrne appointed me as your mentor throughout your time in the PRU, but I feel like you would get along better with another teacher."

"I guess so," Connor retracted back, slowly becoming reserved and subdued again. "Sorry, sir."

"I'll speak with Mr Byrne over lunch. You take the notes on Macbeth, and then head off to get something to eat."

...

"I'm such an idiot," as he waited in the lunch line, Connor turned to find a distraught looking Kevin. "Chalky's not dodgy- he's so not dodgy... I just assumed-"

"Hey, calm down," he sighed, smiling gently towards his friend. "You've not done anything wrong."

"How am I going to make it up to him? I feel awful about how I treated him this morning... And the social worker is coming tonight and I... I don't want it to go badly like it usually does."

"You've found a good foster parent in Chalky- all you need to do is prove to that social worker tonight."

"But what am I going to do about Chalk-"

"You need to speak to him, Kev. Make sure he knows that you understand."

"Thanks, mate. I'll go find him after lunch..."


	8. Solved

"Dynasty, would you please just calm down!" Imogen was shouting just as Connor and Kevin joined the pair at the lunch table.

"They have no right to try and split up me and my family like that!" Dynasty shook her head angrily, sulking as she sunk back into her chair.

"My family and I," Kevin corrected, taking a bite of his sandwich.

"Considering how bad of an influence Barry can be, it's no wonder," Imogen noted. "They're only trying to help you and Casey-"

"I still don't agree with it! They've been lying straight to our faces!"

"Then go complain," Connor shrugged, picking away at his own plate of food.

"Oh trust me, I will," Dynasty noted. "How's the PRU?"

Connor responded with a shrug. In all honesty, he hated it. The work he'd been given from teachers was nothing more than revision or half arsed notes on what they'd be moving on to for the next few days, and it most definitely didn't seem like it would put him in any better stead to pass his A-Levels. He didn't meant to snap at Mr Clarkson like he had, but he couldn't have stopped himself.

"How's class without me?" he smiled towards Imogen, who smiled politely, albeit awkwardly back.

"Quieter," Kevin grinned before getting up from his seat. "I'm going to go find Chalk."

"And I'm going to find Barry," Dynasty left too, leaving only Connor and Imogen at the table.

"You look nice today-" he spoke after a minute of silence.

"Connor," her tone softened slightly, her smile fading. "I thought we said we were just going to be friends?"

"I thought we said we were going to be friends _first_?"

"Connor-...What you did... I can't just forget it happened. I know how bad you feel about it, and I know that you're sorry, but... I honestly don't think we're going to work out-"

"I'll just go then-"

"I don't want to lose you. You're a good friend- a great friend actually. I want to feel like I can still confide in you. Underneath it all, there's a great person in there, Connor. I can't let myself be bitter about what you did. You started that fire in a moment of anger. I can't try and put myself in your shoes and think of how you must have felt; when I entered that room, the last thing I remember was just you...standing there, completely catatonic as I tried to pull you out of that room- I can only imagine how crap you must have felt. I can't let myself shove it under the carpet and forget about it- I'm not that kind of person. We can sort us out, okay? But I want you to know that I mean as friends, okay? Not as a couple. I mean, if push comes to shove and we end up together again, then great, but for now, can we please just go with the flow?"

"I'm sorry, okay? Not just for the fire- for being such an idiot over the past few months. I should've told you. I shouldn't have abandoned you and not come to see you over the holiday. I was being selfish. And I'm sorry for... just now. I just don't want to lose you either. I love you- and I'm not even saying it in a romantic way. You're one of the greatest people I've ever had the pleasure to spend time with, and... I love having you as a friend," he was gutted, but he flashed a genuine smile and sat back down again to finish his lunch. "I just want it to be like before- and I don't mean us being together okay? I mean... where we were nothing more than best friends, and I could spill my heart out to you, and you'd listen, and vice versa."

"I missed you," they both stood up and embraced in a hug.

"I missed you too," he placed his head on her shoulder.

"How are you doing?" Imogen smiled genuinely as they took their seats again. "I mean... everything okay at home now?"

"Bit of a slip up last week, but... I guess we're doing okay," he smiled gently, relaxing a little. "And how are you?- I heard something about the doctors trying to fix-"

"They can't. Unless it's causing me pain, they aren't obliged to even try to fix it. I'm not that fussed; most days it doesn't bother me."

"Crap," he realised the time. "I've got to go speak to Mr Byrne. I kind of lost it with Mr Clarkson today... so wish me luck!"

...

"Connor," Michael spoke, and was to the point with his words. "You can't lose it like you did today."

"I'm sorry," he nodded, shrinking away from the sternness of Mr Byrne's tone. "I just... Lost control."

"This is the reason I removed you from class. You need to learn to take control of situations."

"I know I do."

"Which teacher would you prefer as your mentor? Clearly, appointing Mr Clarkson was a bad idea."

"I don't know."

"Miss McFall?" he suggested, to which Connor nodded. "I want this to work out for you Connor. I want to feel like I made the right choice by not reporting you to the police, and right now, I'm doubting my judgement."

"I'm really sorry, alright? I'm just..."

"I understand. I'll contact Miss McFall. You can go."

...

"Good day?" Christine was in the kitchen, attempting to cook something for the dinner by the time Connor arrived home.

"Better than I thought it would be," he leaned over the counter, taking a look at what she was making. "I spoke to Imogen. Properly this time."

"And it went well?"

"I... I think it did, yeah."

"I was worried this morning-"

"Mum, I'm not going to-... And if I... want to... you know... I'll come to you, okay? I promise."

...

"Well don't you look happier than you did this morning?" Sally Stewart grinned towards her daughter. "I realised what I'd said after you'd left. I'm sorry for upsetting you."

"No, no!" Imogen protested against her mother's concern. "I'm fine. Great, actually."

"And is there any particular reason for your happiness?"

"Connor and I spoke, finally. Things just seem... to be looking up for once, I guess."


	9. Bombshell

For the first time in a long while, Connor walked into school in a good mood for the rest of that an open mind towards both his friendship with Imogen and his time in the Pupil Referral Unit. As his mum- who was coming in to school to collect some essays to mark- parked the car, he found himself actually smiling as he stepped out. You know what they say; it's always the calm before the storm.

"Oi, you?"" he winced at the sound of Barry Barry's drawl.

"What?" Connor turned around.

"I know why you're in the PRU," the manipulative whisper pierced his ears. "You're quite the pyromaniac, aren't you?"

His heart dropped. He felt like he was going to collapse in a heap on the floor. The nausea rose in his throat at the thought that Barry- of all people- knew. He just looked at the creepy little smirk that spread across the liverpudlian's face, and knew that there was no way that this would end well.

"Don't you dare go telling anyone," Connor managed to speak, despite the fact that he was shaking like mad. "How do you even know?"

"Just can't trust Dynasty not to tell her sister, can you? And Kasey's a right blabber mouth, in't she?" Barry laughed. "You really doubt my morals, Mulgrew. I won't tell anyone. Yet."

He'd managed to keep his head focused on the masses of hydrocarbon revision he'd been given from Miss Diamond without thinking too much for a while. However, he could feel the urge bubbling in his chest, and as he found himself longing for the carbon monoxide to fill his nostrils. The worst part was that this time, he could feel his inhibitions slipping away, and he was finding it even harder to think first about what to do, before acting. He barely noticed Miss Boston watching over him with concern, partly because he was so out of it, and partly because he was almost one hundred percent sure that if he saw Barry, he wouldn't be able to hold back from shoving his fist towards his face.

"Connor?" her voice was quiet, and he noticed that she'd taken the seat beside him at the empty table. "You look pale."

"C-can I be excused?" he whispered, his words coming out in a rush.

"Go ahead," normally Nikki would've protested, but one look at the teenager's uncomfortable sulk, and she knew that all was not well. "Is this why you were late in to school yesterday?"

"Uh yeah, I was not going to come in yesterday," he mumbled, desperately wanting to escape the claustrophobic room.

He practically dashed out of the classroom, stumbling to the empty staff room where he knew his mum would be. Sat reading a book before she heard him come in, her head shot up and she ran over to him.

"D-don't feel good," he lied. "Can we go home?"

"Is it-" he shrugged, feeling almost one hundred percent sure that if he'd explained, he'd have vomited right there and then. "Sit down, and I'll fetch you a glass of water."

The sound of shoes clicking against the floor could be heard from outside the room, and Christine would've jumped out of her skin had she not been able to recognize the clunky clip clop of Audrey entering the room. Connor didn't look up from the spot of carpet he was staring up to acknowledge his teacher's entrance, his head still spinning, filled with nothing but red, yellow and orange.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, tentatively walking towards the pair.

"Connor's not feeling too great," Christine took over, knowing her son was in no state to talk.

"I was on my way to the PRU to talk to you," she smiled kindly. "But we'll give out chat a miss for today, I think."

"Sorry," he managed to mumble, feeling his heart pound against his ribcage with every beat.

"I think I'm going to take him home, Audrey. I don't think he's up for the rest of the day."

"I'll tell Michael. You get him home. How are you doing, anyway?"

"Good. Really good," Christine smiled politely, helping Connor stand up.

Once they'd reached the car, they assumed they were safe from being told he'd have to stay in school for the rest of the day, so they sat outside for a little while. More than anything, Connor found that the fresh air was helpful in quenching a little bit of his desire to turn to fire; he could put how cold he felt down to the cool breeze, instead of the ultimate need for the warmth that only fire could provide. Christine was also hesitant to drive just yet, knowing that her son was still feeling nauseous and not wanting to spend the rest of the day scrubbing the car down.

"Christine!" Michael appeared by the front door, causing Christine's heart to drop. "Audrey has just spoken to me. This is an important year for Conn-"

"Can't you see the poor kid's not well?" she pointed to her son, who was curled up in the back seat of the car with the door open, breathing in the fresh air as he tried to relax a little.

"He needs to-"

"He can't help it, for god's sake!"

"Christine, stop jumping down my throat! I was just telling you to make sure he gets some revision-"

"He needs home, so if you don't mind-"

"I'm trying to have a conversation with you-"

"And I'm trying to make sure my son's okay, so I'm going to leave now-"

"Christine," Michael's voice softened a little. "I'm sorry. I just want the situation we've organised with Connor in the PRU to work, and right now, I feel like I've made the wrong choice giving him a second chance."

"It will work, but for now I just want to get him home, and make sure he's okay before I can even think about that, okay?" she slowly walked back towards her car as she watched Michael go back inside the school.

...

"I've done something horrible, Im," Dynasty sighed as the pair sat in the student common room.

"What have you done this time?" Imogen shook her head, laughing until she realised the seriousness of Dynasty's words. "What? What is it?"

"I told Kasey about Connor starting the fire."

"But Kasey's alright-"

"I think she's told Barry, Imogen."

Imogen's words were robbed from her; she just found herself incapable of forming a coherent response. She was far from mad at Dynasty; she'd done nothing wrong. As far as Imogen was concerned, neither was little Kasey. She knew how Barry could manipulate this new found knowledge, and her heart broke as she thought of how much damage he could do to Connor. Yet the whole school obviously didn't know yet. Barry hadn't told anyone, or at least, he hadn't yet. She didn't want anybody to know either- the fire had barely been on her mind for the past week, and she wanted to keep it that way.

"Dynasty, you've not done anything wrong-"

"Barry will blab, and if Barry blabs, that's Connor's life ruined! Do you really think I want to live with that on my conscience."

"He'd have blabbed already, Dynasty," Imogen looked up as Kevin entered the room. "You haven't seen Connor, have you?"

"He's not in. Or he was in, but he left quite early on or something," he shrugged, slumping down onto one of the sofas.

"Barry's told him he knows," Dynasty shook her head, angry at her brother's actions. "The manipulative little sod."

"Barry knows about the fire?"

"Because of me, yes. I told Kasey, then..."

"Connor won't be mad at you. He's not like that- he'll know you didn't tell Kasey with the intention of Barry finding out."

"But I can just tell how terrified he must feel-"

"He'll be fine, trust me."


	10. Fuel

_'We're joining you at lunch. No buts.'_

Connor was pulled from his dazed state as they were on the way home by the ring of a text from Kevin. He groaned, not really in the mood for the invasive company of his friends. He just wanted to curl up and hide away from the world, until somehow, the urge would go away.

"Will you be alright in yourself?" Christine asked, not quite sure if he would be. "I have to go somewhere."

"I'll be fine," he stared at his phone, thinking of how to persuade his friends not to come over.

_'Please don't. I just want to sleep,' _he texted back, returning to his curled up position as they pulled into the house.

He staggered through into the living room, slumping down onto the sofa tiredly as his mum followed behind.

"Talk to me," she sighed, smiling gently towards him. "Please, don't push me away."

"I'm fine," he turned away from her.

"Connor, I can read you like a book. I know what's bothering you."

"Mum I'm so sorry," he bit his lip, just trying to hold it together because he knew that once he'd started crying, he wouldn't be able to stop.

This time though, his mum's comfort provided him with little warmth. He edged further into the sofa, desperately trying to make sleep come to him so that he could be free from the terrifying consciousness, but every time he tried to close his eyes and drift off, he felt the memories of that day flood back. The oxygen is being pulled from the air. The fuel shows no need to be replenished. The fire just builds and builds and builds, engulfing every inch of the room in thick orange. The flames grow, becoming taller and taller as each second passes. The smoke rises, coiling it's way around his throat like a boa constrictor.

"Connor," he barely noticed he'd gagged until he heard his mother's worried voice and her gentle hand rubbing circles on his shoulder. "It's okay..."

"Don't leave-" he stopped, swallowing as his throat clenched again as if he was about to retch. "Please."

"You're more important than where I was going anyway," she smiled comfortingly. "You're not going to school tomorrow, and we'll see about Wednesday, alright?"

"Mum..." he mumbled, sighing heavily.

"Did something upset you today?"

"Barry knows, mum. Barry knows I started the fire."

"Oh Connor-..."

"He hasn't told anyone yet. I think he's going to use it to blackmail me, or something. And... I just haven't thought about things at all, and then it's like... he drops this bombshell and it hits me again. I-I feel horrible," his face paled again as he spoke, looking like he was going to gag again.

"I know you do, son," she ran her hand through his messy mop of black hair. "You've run yourself ragged. Try and get some sleep, hmm?"

"Kevin texted and said they were coming at lunch, no exceptions. I doubt my refusal will have meant much."

"I'll turn them away. Now you get some rest, I'm going to go mark a few essays."

...

"Are we still planning to go over to Connor's or what?" Kevin appeared by Imogen's locker.

"He's ill, Kevin," Imogen shook her head. "We'd just be intruding."

"You and I both know that's not the case. Barry knows, and he knows that he knows. That's why he's not here."

"We'd still be intruding!"

"Let me put it this way, are you worried about him?"

"Yeah, of course?-"

"Then why don't we go and make sure he's okay?"

"You go ahead, but I'm not coming."

"But why not?"

"He'll be thinking about the fire, Kevin. Seeing me won't help much will it? You can go- it'll probably help him. But me being there might upset him."

It wasn't only that; Imogen didn't particularly want to think about the fire at all. She'd accepted her scar. She'd accepted what Connor had did. She didn't want to take a step backwards, just as she'd taken such a huge leap forwards. She also felt slightly responsible, seeing as it was her who'd confided in Dynasty at first, but she knew that trying to blame herself for what had just happened would have been pointless. Connor wouldn't have blamed her, so why should she blame herself? She knew how much of a state he'd be in- he was never that good at handling things.

"Imogen, trust me on this," Kevin smiled. "Seeing you, and how much you care about him, will boot him right onto cloud nine!"

"So you want me to give him false hope?" Imogen shrugged. "And you're meant to be smart, Skelton!"

That was the other thing; she had to be careful about how she spoke to Connor. She didn't want him taking something the wrong way, then having to deal with the consequences of having his hopes dashed. She loved him. She really did. But she needed to put her more rational feelings first. Just seeing Connor, and seeing his apprehension every time he looked at her face, made her all the more aware of the scar on her neck. She knew they were never going to be like how they were, and trying to glue the pieces together would just be stupid. She needed to make the right decisions for her own well-being, and whilst it hurt that she knew her and Connor were a lost cause, it would have hurt more if she'd given in, spending the rest of her lifetime unhappy.

"I'm not coming okay?" she sighed contentedly as she closed her locker. "Tell him I hope he's alright if you're still going."

"Are you mad at Dynasty?" Kevin finally spoke again.

"Why would I be? It's myself I'm mad at. And Barry Barry."

"Don't be mad at yourself. All you did was confide in your best friend."

...

As Connor lay there, staring up at the ceiling, he was finding it harder and harder not to bust out of the house, straight down to the park and set something alight. The urge was getting worse, and he couldn't even move without being overwhelmed by the thick nausea that rose in his dry throat. His head swirled, and he was growing ever more tempted to pull out his lighter and get rid of the urge once and for all. But he couldn't. He wouldn't.

If only he'd resisted the urge before, then he wouldn't be in such a mess. He couldn't let the fire use him as it's fuel.


	11. Try

Three things are needed for combustion to occur. A spark; that's what Barry's confession is, igniting the flames. Oxygen is needed too; his existing sadness, and it's in plentiful supply. And the fuel; Connor, of course, being used up and burnt to a crisp.

He could hear his phone ringing on the coffee table, but he was in no mood to pick it up; he barely thought he'd be able to form a coherent sentence let alone have a proper conversation with them. The phone silenced, before ringing again, and finally, he pulled himself up from what he was turning into his death bed to at least see who it was that was calling him.

"Uh, sorry if this phone call woke you up," Kevin's laugh echoed through the phone, and it was obviously on speakerphone because the hustle and bustle of the cafeteria could be heard in the background.

"Is that Connor on the phone?" Imogen wandered over.

"Um...hey," he managed to piece together.

"How are you doing?" Imogen asked.

"I'm fine."

"Barry hasn't told anyone by the way. And I don't think he will," Dynasty noted.

He listened to them talking for a bit, not really speaking much as his throat tightened up further. As Kevin and Dynasty talked and talked, Imogen began to notice her friend's silence, but didn't act on it, knowing he must have just been feeling off.

"You better be coming in tomorrow, Mulgrew," Dynasty spoke.

"Nope," he sighed, and not too soon after, the conversation had ended.

...

Christine was in another room, marking a pile of essays when her own phone rang.

"Christine?" it was Michael.

"What do you want?" she sighed.

"Can we do dinner tonight? The restaurant-"

"I don't really want to leave Connor in himself."

"Oh-"

"But you could come over? We'll order a pizza, or something?"

"I'd like that."

"Seven?"

"Seven."

...

Michael arrived around ten minutes early, changed out of his usual headmaster monkey suit. Christine barely recognized him in more casual clothes, so it was a pleasant surprise seeing him in just jeans and a shirt. They hadn't been getting on too well since the business with Joe, but more than anything, they both wanted their relationship to work. Christine welcomed him inside, telling him to make himself feel at home.

"How are you feeling now?" he directed his question to the tired looking Connor sitting on the corner of the sofa, the strategically placed bin at his feet as the urge had snowballed rather than having ceased.

"Eh," he shrugged, rubbing at his eye.

"There's no rush for you to get back to school for the rest of the week," Michael smiled sympathetically. "Just come back when you're ready."

"Are you hungry, Connor?" Christine joined them, a tray full of drinks in her hand.

"Toast?" his eyebrow raised, he smiled a little.

Christine arrived back minutes later, having called out for the pizza and made the toast. Connor nibbled at it, the charred crusts doing nothing to help is current state of mind, before he padded back through to his room to leave his mum and Mr Byrne alone.

"I'm sorry, Christine," Michael's head drooped down as he took a seat. "For being so distant."

"Michael, why did you come over?" Christine's voice was still soft, although with a questioning tone. "I thought you said we weren't going to work out as a couple?"

"The past couple of weeks have been crazy. We both needed to think things through first."

The sat for a while, eating away at their pizza and just talking. Michael- who'd had so much to deal with at the school to properly have some time for himself- grinned, losing himself in the smile spreading across Christine's face. They both relaxed not too far into their conversation, realising that they were both happy in each others company. They weren't exactly sure when exactly it happened, but their hands ended up interlocked, resting on the table.

"How's everything going?" Michael finally spoke, after a couple of minutes of pleasant silence.

"Good," Christine nodded, taking a sip of her drink. "The other week was a slip up- with what happened..."

"I know."

"And with all the drama with Connor, I've barely thought about it-"

"I understand."

"And I've been at AA meetings every week- I was meant to be at one but with what happened with Connor..."

"That's great!"

"I just want to get back and teach now," she smiled.

"You could come in tomorrow?" Michael shrugged. "Or whenever you like."

...

"Where are you going?" Connor emerged from his room, having being awoken by his mum getting ready, his voice quiet and subdued.

"You were asleep by the time Michael left at half eight so I forgot to tell you. I'm starting back at work today," Christine smiled half heartedly, watching as her son's smile faded from his face. "How are you feeling?"

"Crap," he shrugged, his eyes darting around the room before focusing on the half full bottle of wine on the counter. "What's that?"

"Mr Byrne was over. And I didn't drink any, Connor!" she shoved the rest of the bottle down the sink. "And I don't want any more."

"I don't want you to leave me alone."

"Well unless you're coming into school today, I don't know what else I can do-"

"Gran?"

"Connor, I haven't spoken to my mother in months!"

"I'll... I'll be fine."

Being left alone, he wasn't sure he could resist the urge for much longer.

...

"Mrs Mulgrew!" Imogen's eyes lit up as she walked into English first thing the next morning ahead of a double period with year twelve. "I thought you wouldn't be back for a while."

"Well I'm back aren't I?" she smiled towards the class entering. "Take out your copies of Macbeth- you may have been able to skim over the proper analysis with Mr Clarkson covering, but not now I'm back."

"How's Connor?" Dynasty looked up at the teacher inquisitively.

"Will he be in tomorrow?" Kevin joined in with the questioning.

"I don't think so no- but he's fine, and I'll make sure to pass on your concern. Anyway, we need to finish reading Act 3 by the end of the period."

Christine was back in her element; being holed up inside of the house for just a week and a bit had been like hell. She'd never really had to spend time by herself in the house, without Connor or alcohol to keep her company at least. As much as it was a struggle, she was glad she was off the drink. She liked being able to think clearly for the first time in years. She liked being able to wake up without the splitting headache she'd grown to know as normal. And more than anything else, she liked getting on well with her son.

As hard as it was to admit though, it was terrifying. For the first time in what now felt like a lifetime, she had to face issues head on. Before, she'd had dealt with Connor's state by shoving it down with swig after swig of vodka, but now she knew that she really had to try, for herself more than anybody else. This was just the first step- regaining a little bit more normality; and of course, actually enjoying that normality without wanting to turn back. Maybe it was naive to think everything was just going to be normal from now on, considering the life she'd lived, but something close to normal was good enough for her. As long as alcohol wasn't normal, she was happy.

She knows the wrongs she has caused. She may not have started the fire that scarred Imogen; but she may as well have. In her mind, it was as much her fault as it was Connor's. He was just trying to find a way to cope; maybe even just get away from it all. She'd caused it. Had she not drank her way into an incoherent oblivion, the fire wouldn't even have occurred.

But she couldn't go back and change things. She had to face the facts, and admit that she'd done wrong. She had to make sure she didn't make those mistakes again- to not let anything send her back to that place. She could sort things, and now, she was finally going to try.


	12. Giving In

The compulsion surged through him, taking control of every muscle, bone and- heck, every single cell in his body. He sat there, using the last of his conscious thoughts to keep his feet planted against the ground. He wanted to run. His feet twitched, but he balled his fist, trying to stop himself from doing something he'd live to regret. His head pounded, feeling like his brain was going to burst out of his skull any minute now. He couldn't restrain himself much longer; he was losing the little common sense he had left. He didn't care any more. He just wanted to run.

And so he did. He ran straight towards the woods, not sure how his shaky legs had gotten him there. The lighter felt like a brick in his pocket, so he pulled it out and flicked it. The orange made his breath deepen, and the urge to place the lighter down against something which would burn became unbearable.

As soon as the flame began to destroy the leaves, Connor disgusted himself. He'd given in. He was weak. And for nothing. He felt no better; worse actually. He found it hard to take that he wanted more destruction, because in his conscious thoughts he really didn't. But it was as if his brain had been rewired, and he now subconsciously needed the flames just like he needed food, water and sleep. It was a necessity.

He didn't stomp the flames out. He just let the leaves which were fuelling it disintegrate into nothing until there was nothing of them to burn. He stumbled back onto the little bench that he and Imogen used to sit on, trying to dampen down the nausea that was becoming hard to control. He gagged again, not sure how he was going to be able to walk back home considering he felt like he could barely even move without his stomach convulsing in a yanking retch.

The fire had been all too much; yet somehow, it was not enough.

He barely even remembered why he was in such a mess; everything in his head was nothing more than a jumble. Barry and his knowledge didn't cross his mind once. He just felt sick, as if his whole body was just... _empty._

By some miracle, he made it home without passing out. His entire body was shaking; convulsing, almost. He hated himself for giving in to the urge, yet by giving in, he'd done nothing more than make the emptiness even worse. He curled up, resting his head against his knees as he tried to suppress everything around him, but his feeble attempts at calming down were falling short.

His phone rang somewhere around when it would be break time. Connor used what little energy he had left to pick it up and quivered at the sound of his mother's voice on the other end of the line, and from the sound of it, she was standing in the corridor as her class left.

"How are you doing?" her voice was soft.

"M-mum," he choked out, feeling his eyes sting.

"Talk to me, Connor!" she winced at how defeated he sounded. "Come on, I'm worried about you."

"Feel sick..."

"Everything okay?" Imogen stopped as she went to leave the classroom.

"Hmm?" Christine looked taken aback for a second, as she listened to the silence on the other end of the phone. "Oh sorry, Imogen... I was just calling Connor to see if he's alright."

"And?"

"I'm going to have to go back home I think- I'm worried."

"I've got the next two periods free because my teacher's on some school trip," Imogen smiled. "I don't need to be back in class until after lunch. I could go and check on him if you'd like? And I can always give him a call if he's not alright?"

Christine nodded, heading back towards the staff room. Imogen turned the other way, wondering whether to take Kevin and Dynasty along with her. She wasn't so sure about Dynasty; she could be loud sometimes, and Connor wasn't that close with her, and considering it was her brother that was probably responsible for how he was feeling, she wasn't sure if he'd be alright with it.

"Kevin!" she caught up with him as he was about to head out to enjoy his own free period. "We're going to Connor's."

"Well you've changed your tune," he laughed.

"Mrs Mulgrew was worried, but couldn't really leave to go and check if he was okay."

...

Connor was pulled from his slightly catatonic state at the sound of knocking on the door. He looked up, his head still feeling all over the place, to see Kevin and Imogen standing at his front door.

"Come in," he spoke as loud as he possibly could, finding it easier to talk than to drag his weak body towards the door.

"Well don't you look the picture of health," Kevin grinned in his direction as he wandered through to the living room.

"You okay?" Imogen sat beside him, placing her hand on his shoulder.

"I-..." he was going to confess to what he did, but he couldn't seem to get the words out of his mouth. "This morning's just a complete jumble in my head."

"You're not well mate," Kevin shrugged. "You're allowed to be a little out of sorts."

"I went out- I don't know how...- but... I was in the park," he looked like he was about to vomit again. "Fire."

"Imogen, get him a glass of water?" he was partly concerned that Imogen might be upset by the mention of that word "Connor, Barry hasn't told anyone. He's not going to- at least not for a while. You can't beat yourself up about this."

Connor was silenced, as he'd been robbed entirely of the ability to talk. His pyromania was such a difficult thing for him to articulate, and whenever he made the attempt to explain, his words got tangled up before they fell from his tongue, coming out as nothing more than a confused 'umm'.


	13. Crash

Imogen had to stand by the counter for a moment after she'd filled up the glass with water. She just couldn't fathom Connor's mindset. Fire was responsible for most of what he had went through, but somewhere in that twisted little mind of his, he still wanted it. And it was terrifying; she'd just gotten closer to him again, and now it could easily happen all over again. As horrible as it sounded, Imogen just wanted Michael to tell the police about it. Not so Connor would have a criminal record- she felt horrible at that thought- but so he could get the help he needed. And he was in such desperate need of that help. She could just see it from looking at him; he was sick and tired and scared, and it was all because of the fire.

She wandered back through, handing him the glass of water. He just looked defeated, as if all the life in his body had just been drained out, leaving a walking, talking corpse. That just confirmed it; deep down, the fire had scarred him much more than it had scarred her. She'd moved on, accepting that little could be done to fix the mark on her neck. He hadn't moved on. He'd be plagued with such destruction for the rest of his life.

"Come here," she sighed as he shoved his head into her shoulder. "You can't be like this, Connor."

"I know," he mumbled. "Mum says I should talk to someone, but... I can't exactly can I? I'd get turned in to the police."

"Your mum's really worried about you, you know. That's why we're here."

"Barry's not going to tell anyone?"

"We can't promise you anything, but he hasn't yet Connor," Kevin noted. "Come back to school with us."

"Kevin, he's not feeling to great," Imogen practically read his mind.

"Tomorrow, okay?" he looked up. "I promise."

...

_Everything's happy for once. His mum's smiling. Imogen's looking at him like she used to look at him when they were together, and best of all, her scars not even there, or if it is he barely notices it. Barry's not even in existence._

It's a fabrication; just a dream, but he couldn't help but sink back into his bed, curling up relaxedly.

_He's warm; a feeling he hasn't exactly felt for a while. His skin isn't tingling with goose-bumps with every little movement, and the cold empty nausea's been replaced with the gentler feeling of normality._

_But it's growing warmer, the temperature creeping up as he sits there, watching the smiles fade. He's sweating now, feeling it plaster his hair to his forehead. His skin's burning now, like it's peeling away as each second passes. The smiles are far from smiles now; worse than frowns, even. Imogen's scar becomes really noticeable; like how he saw it when he first returned to school after that holiday and couldn't even look her in the eye. His mum's eyes are sunken, her breath thick with the scent of alcohol._

_It's boiling now, and his lungs feel like they are going to deflate with the carbon monoxide that fills them, making his head pound in agony. _

...

Connor didn't manage to live up to the previous day's promise. After waking up from what must have been the worst nightmare he'd ever slept through, he was up sick for the whole night. Christine was quite frankly terrified, with Connor being very vague about what was really bothering him and causing his current 'ailment', and it took him a while to talk her out of dragging him to a doctor. She point black refused to let him go into school that day, despite the fact that he'd stated he would find it easier to push himself through a day of school instead of being stuck in his own twisted little mind until she returned, telling him that after the night he'd had, he really wasn't up for it.

He eventually returned to school after the weekend, despite the fact that it took every ounce of courage he had left to get him past the school gates. Focusing on the task of getting into school, he was so detached from what was actually going on around him that he barely noticed the pointing and the laughing and the stern looks from those that surrounded him. He managed to get to his locker, when once again, the world fell apart around him.

Written on his locker in spray paint, in big block capitals was the words 'sick scum'. His obliviousness vanished as he turned to see the frowns of those around him. Kasey, who'd previously not been too fussed had she known the truth, stood in front of Barry near the lockers, smirking sternly in his direction. Even Dynasty, under the peer pressure of her siblings, looked disappointed to see his face.

"Connor," Michael's voice was stern; a far cry from the supportive tone of just a few days ago. "My office."

Submissively, he ducked his head and took a seat in the office as instructed.

"This morning Barry Barry told me that it was you who started the fire, and now, as you have probably noticed the news is circulating the school," Michael spoke calmly, his voice softening a little from how he'd spoken in the corridor. "I have no choice now but to phone the police. I'm sorry."

"I understand completely," his voice wobbled, and as much as he wanted to prevent himself from getting too upset, he had to wipe away the tears forming before the trickled down his cheeks.

"If it had been my choice, I wouldn't have called them, Connor, but I had no other option."

"I'm sorry, sir. I'm really sorry."

"I want you to see how this could help you. At the moment, I can tell that you're troubled and depressed, and more than anything, we want to see you happy. You can talk to someone now. Fire is no way to deal with things."

"Thank you," he managed to mumble.

"I want you to speak to the school and make a public confession. Take control of this situation without resorting to such dangerous methods."

"Too late sir," he would've laughed if he had the motivation to. "Too late."

"When was the last fire you started?"

"Wednesday."

"And before that?"

"All the stuff with mum-... But that was the first time since...-" and he was done with trying to hold back, as he let the sobs takeover his body.

"Sonia's going to take you to the cooler. I don't think you should be in class. I'll get Miss McFall to sit with you."


	14. Convicted

**Have I mentioned how much I really hate how they are handling the Connor/Imogen storyline now the whole fire thing has kind of come to an end? I mean, it annoyed me that one minute Imogen was angry with him, then the next she's fine with him? One or the other; clumsy writing grr. And Connor saying 'yeah' to Imogen asking him if the scarf was to cover her scar...*facepalm*... anyway... **

* * *

Inside, he felt like screaming. He wanted to tear down the walls, rip them apart and set them alight. But on the outside, he just bowed his head submissively, taking his earned seat in the cooler. Sonia waited until Miss McFall appeared by the door, before slipping out as fast as she possibly could. Miss McFall was silent at first, not even looking up as she placed her things on the desk, but eventually, she wandered over and took a seat beside him.

"Connor," she sighed. "This is for the best."

"I'm scared. I don't want to go to jail."

"You have to prove to the people at the station that you've got a future ahead of you- and you do, if you didn't let all this get to you. You're not going to get away uncharged, but a fine and being on probation is a lot better than going to jail."

"I'm not a bad person. I don't want to be a bad person."

"You just did a bad thing. Now why don't you start on some homework while you're here, hmm?"

"What's the point?" he flung his arms in the air. "This time tomorrow I'll be in a cell."

"These could be the most important years of your life, Connor. No matter what happens, you'll need some form of qualification to stand a chance of going anywhere in life."

"As if I have a future; as soon as I have a criminal record, I'll never be able to get a job let alone go to university!"

...

With meetings lined up all day concerning the future of the pupil referral unit, trying to keep it running for the day would've been a lost cause. Instead, the group of teenagers were just carted off to whichever teachers didn't have a class, and unluckily for Christine, the task fell on her for the first hour or so of her day. She wasn't too fussed- she'd just get the kids to help clear up her classroom a bit, or hand out a couple of books for them to read, and if all else failed, she could easily stick on a film. It took her by surprise a little when Connor didn't show, but from what she'd heard, he'd already picked up the habit of skipping out of some classes to speak to his friends, so it didn't stick with her for long as she took a seat in front of the class.

"So your son's a nutjob, eh?" Barry wandered in a couple of seconds late, proceeding to sit on top of one of the tables instead of on a chair. "I'm not surprised."

"What did you just say?" her voice pitched with anger.

"Connor started that fire," he smirked. "Mr Byrne's probably already called the police right now."

"I... I have to go," Christine wandered towards the door. "Mr Budgen will be through in a minute."

She darted out, stopping only to ask Grantly for the favour of watching the PRU kids.

"Grantly, I need you to be in charge of the PRU kids for the rest of the period," she stood by the door to his classroom.

"I know they must be a nuisance to teach, but Christine...-" he looked insulted that she'd even asked him.

"Something's happened with Connor. Please, just this once?"

"Fine, where are the rowdy lot?"

"Through in my classroom," Christine darted off towards Michael's office.

...

As the police officers arrived by the door of the cooler, followed by Mr Byrne and his mother, Connor could do no more than accept his fate. He kept his head down as they escorted him through the halls past his classmates, acting aloof from his surroundings. He didn't want to be charged with arson, but once he was sitting in the back of the police car, he knew that any attempts at staying hopeful would be futile.

He made sure to remain composed and respectful as they questioned him at the station, knowing that he couldn't lose his temper if he had any desire not to be locked up. He swallowed down the anger, although mostly, it was aimed at himself. He cried a couple of times, as he described his motives for starting the fire, and how he felt about what happened to Imogen, but the man interviewing him was considerate enough, giving him the time to calm himself down instead of pressing him and accusing him.

The day dragged on, the questioning lasting a while. Connor was exhausted by the time he was let out, and as they waited to see what was going to happen, he found himself falling asleep on Christine's shoulder. Christine had high hopes; she couldn't see them shoving him behind bars when he was obviously in a vulnerable state.

A decision was made. Thankfully, he wouldn't be spending any time in jail, but he'd been placed on probation, with a hefty bill to pay which Christine had no idea how she was going to pay for.

...

He knew how wasn't very welcome as he walked through the school gates the next morning, but his mum had refused to let him stay off due to being absent the week before. He could practically feel the disgusted glares of his peers piercing into his skin, and even some of his regular teachers looked at him with a stare of disappointment. His eyes scoped the halls, desperate to find someone he knew wouldn't shun him. At the sight of Kevin standing near his locker, he wandered over to seek solace in his friend.

"Didn't think I'd see you today," Kevin laughed, not once looking up from his locker. "Are you going to jail or what?"

"I'm on probation, and we'll probably have to sell our car, but it's better than a prison cell. Are you alright? You seem distant."

"Chalky doesn't think I should speak to you any more. He thinks you'll be a bad influence."

"Well you did set fire to Audrey's book because of me-"

"Anyway, he was no idea. I'm not an idiot who's going to be led by the stupid mistakes my friends make- and besides, like I've told you before, you're one of the good guys. Barry Barry may be judging you right now, but I swear, he's probably done worse, and with the intention to do so."

Despite Kevin's best efforts to put him in a better mood, his friend's jovial attitude did nothing more than make him smile for a second or two, before his expression dropped and he sighed, leaning against the lockers in defeat.

"How did it go?" Imogen appeared behind him along with Dynasty, smiling gently.

"Fine," he mumbled, accepting the hug she was offering. "Today's going to be hell."

"It's going to be fine."

"I'm sorry, you know? I'm so sorry."

"Shh, it's okay," Imogen pulled away from the hug for a second, giving him a supportive grin. "Today's going to be a good day, Con."


	15. Changes

"I don't see why you're so worked up," Dynasty shrugged placing a hand on his shoulder. "Maybe you'll gain this whole new reputation as a bad boy. You'll be giving my brother a run for his money!"

"Thanks for you know..." she managed to push a smile out of Connor, as he relaxed away from the not so sweet glares of the other students. "Giving me a second chance."

"You just need a bit of help, is all," Imogen grinned.

"Mum's down in Liverpool tonight, so we're having a party and because it's a long weekend," Dynasty changed the subject. "And you're coming Connor, whether you like it or not."

"But Ba-"

"Mum dragged him to Blackpool with her. Some business thing...Don't ask."

...

Connor just about made it through the day, keeping his head down as he sat in the PRU as to avoid looking at the others. Scout attempted to talk to him, and whilst her tone was gentle, her curious attitude did nothing more than upset him a little. Rhiannon was a little less caring, sending a frown in his direction, and Jade didn't really know what to say to him so kept quiet. Miss Boston- who'd previously been relatively nice to him- became a little bit stricter, peering over his shoulder like a hawk to make sure he was completing his work.

He really didn't want to have to attend the party, but his doubts had been met with threats from his three friends had he decided not to show his face. He kept his apprehension from his mother, not wanting to worry his mother more than he'd already done so over the past month. He barely made an attempt to get ready; he just changed out his school clothes into some jeans. He knew his face was tripping him as he met up with Kevin and Imogen on his way there, but he really couldn't care less.

A plastic cup of some alcoholic beverage was shoved into his hands by Dynasty before he'd even got through the door, and whilst he was hesitant to drink it at first, his early concerns were dashed once he'd consumed enough to forget his worries. With the alcohol surging through his bloodstream, he was more hyped up about the night ahead. Music blasted loudly through the house, making the floorboards move, and it was a miracle that none of the neighbours called the police with the volume. Within just an hour, most of the teenagers were at least a little tipsy, and the dance moves were nothing short of eccentric by the time the floor was filled with people on their feet. Imogen practically dragged Connor up to dance once Kevin had convinced Dynasty to let him be in control of the music so that the choice would be a little better, wrapping her arms around his neck and spinning him round. They were a little closer than what friends would be expected to be, but Connor made sure to respect Imogen's boundaries, pulling her away to spin her, yet Imogen nudged a little closer, as if it was an invitation for them to dance a little nearer to each other.

The music slowed down a little, and just as Connor was going to go sit down because he wasn't particular sure if they should've slow danced together, but Imogen's grasp on his hand grew a little tighter as she smiled up at him, and he knew that it'd be alright to. The pair laughed whole heartedly as they swayed, Imogen's head falling into his shoulder. As she pulled her head back up, their eyes met for a second. Almost with a primal instinct, their lips edged closer together. Connor's hand pulled apart from Imogen's, as he lifted it to cradle her face. He could feel the scar underneath his fingertips, but it didn't bother him a bit. Imogen trusted him completely; what he'd done had been an accident, and now she knew he was most definitely one of the good guys. She was free from all of her previous doubts and fears, and accepted her old friend just like she would've done before the fire.

"I love you," he whispered, a smile spreading across his face as he looked at her.

"I love you too," she grinned, reaching for her drink, her other hand still joined with his. "Glad you showed your face then?"

"It's been a better night than I thought it'd be."

They kissed again, softer this time as they sat back down on the sofa.

"What the heck is he doing?" they could hear people talking around them. "He's trying to get her back after what he did to her? She'd be slapping him if she hadn't a drink in her."

"Excuse me?" Imogen's head shot in their direction. "I've had like one drink. It's definitely me making my own conscious decision, thank you very much. And I don't want people like you judging me as if it's your decision on whether I reciprocate his feelings or not, not yours, not his and not anyone else's. _Mine's. _Now if you have anything against that, would you kindly keep your opinions to yourselves thank you very much?"

As the party came to an end a few hours later, Connor, Imogen and Kevin decided to stay the night, mostly because they didn't want to be going home smelling like drink. Thankfully, due to the long weekend, there was no school the next day, so they could easily sleep to recover from their night the next day. Any lingering urge to start a fire was now absent from Connor's mind. Whether it was because of the alcohol still being in his system or because of his amazing night, he couldn't tell, but that didn't really matter. Whilst Imogen was still a little doubtful about whether they were going to work out, she now knew that there was no harm in taking things slowly and testing the waters a little more. They were both much happier now, which was a little strange considering what a week it had been, and both of them were so thankful they'd taken up Dynasty's offer of the party in the first place.


	16. Light

**Note: The little 'A-Levels' thing is me, expressing my confusion as to why a Scottish secondary school is portrayed as doing A-Levels and the years being labelled as like...'year 12', instead of doing Highers and being called like... '5th year or 'S5' or whatever... Aha:)  
**

* * *

"Oh god," Kevin groaned, almost falling off the sofa he had been sleeping on and on to Connor who was still asleep on the floor beside Imogen. "Remind me never to drink again."

Connor stirred at the sound of Kevin's voice, completely regretting the night before. Having sworn he'd never drink after seeing how it had ruined his mother, he'd completely gone against all that he stood for. Sure, there was the one time where he'd stupidly downed a bottle of vodka over lunch one day in a desperate protest against his mother, but that had ended in nothing but an angry Christine and vomit. He pulled himself up and curled his his arms around his knees, guilty now that his inhibitions had returned.

"Feeling the effects, mate?" Kevin's hand thudded on his shoulder.

"Uh yeah," he nodded, noting that he'd be sticking around the Barry household for a while to avoid his mother. "Im, you awake?"

"I've been awake for hours," she grinned, sitting up.

"How come you don't look dead?" Kevin questioned, clambering back up onto the sofa.

"Because unlike you two, I'm sensible."

"Well I'm going to go get some fresh air..."

The pair remained silent as Kevin wandered out the front door, not sure whether to talk about what had happened the night before. Both were unsure whether their decision to remain as friends still stood now that they had kissed. Imogen was particularly doubtful, trying to justify the kiss by their intoxicated states, but she knew very well that she'd barely had any. They made the decision to talk about when they were able to form more coherent sentences, and sat back, awaiting the entrance of Dynasty. Imogen couldn't help but notice Connor's subdued nature, and set about trying to find out what was bothering him.

"Alright?" she smiled gently.

"The alcohol...It's just making me think about my mum. I'm fine," but he wasn't fine; the guilt was seeping through his veins just like the booze had done the night before, and the urge was slowly but surely tapping away at his brain. "I just... thinking."

"I forget how vulnerable you can be, Con; that the whole moody teenager thing isn't an act. Have they sorted out any help now that you've been charged or?"

"Um..." he winced a little at the mention of his situation, turning away from Imogen's concerned glare. "They're referring me to speak to someone."

"Don't look so worried! It'll be great. They made me speak to someone... after what happened. It helps, you know."

"I'm like... a qualified freak. Violent pyromaniac, probably depressed and unable to keep up decent relationships."

"Guess we'll just have to be freaks together," Imogen laughed, punching his shoulder playfully. "Seriously, don't worry about it. No matter what happens, Mr Kevin Skelton out there will always be crazier than you."

"Oi, I'm offended," Kevin stumbled back through.

"Come on it's true though," Dynasty finally appeared, fixing her hair as she took a seat beside them on the sofa. "I mean, you're the only person I know who actually _likes _calculus."

"And the dance moves you demonstrated last night could probably earn you a high ranking on the world's list of strangest people," Imogen smirked. "Don't worry, we love you really."

"Still offended."

"Seriously though, could you like... teach me calculus because I am so going to fail these preliminary examinations if I don't get my head around this stuff... or just maths in general?"

"Not until you apologize to me."

"Aw Kevin's all offended," Connor chuckled. "Did the big bad girl hurt your feelings?"

"Who are we kidding? We're all nuts," Imogen flashed a smile.

"But yes, I'll teach you maths."

"God I miss being in classes. I don't think I've done any work in all the time I've been there."

"Well you should be more motivated," Kevin playfully shook his head at Connor, his voice morphing into an impression vaguely resembling a mix between Miss McFall and Connor's mum. "You won't pass your A-Levels if you don't put in the effort!"

"Why are we even doing A-Levels if we're in a Scottish school?" Imogen's face shrivelled into a confused smile. "Shouldn't we be sitting Highers?"

"Loads of the pupils and most of the teachers were accustomed to the English curriculum, so they're keeping it until they have to introduce the new Scottish thing that's being introduced now."

They sat around, talking and laughing and complaining about the aftermath of the night before, and for once, everything seemed like it was on the right path. Connor had gone from sour faced and sad looking to being the happiest person in the room. He couldn't just beat himself up about something that had firstly, had no awful consequences, and secondly, that couldn't be changed now it had happened. He just smiled, thinking about the spectacular events that the night had brought. Whilst he knew that without the influence of the drink, they might have been a little less intimate, the pair's early hesitation to reforging the friendship that had been burnt to a crisp had slipped away, and finally, they were comfortable in each others' company. They both finally felt like they could laugh and joke and hug without trying to refrain at all from overstepping the limit; and they didn't particularly want to refrain, considering how happy they felt after letting their walls down.

"So are you going to ask about going back into class?" Imogen took advantage of Kevin and Dynasty's loud conversation to speak quietly with Connor.

"They're probably going to assess whether I'm doing better in the PRU next week and then decide," Connor shrugged. "Any ideas about what you're going to do when you leave?"

"Honestly? I have no clue. Thank god we've still got next year until we have to apply to universities, because there's so much to choose from... What about you?"

"You think I've had time to think about my future? Whether I even have a future... I really don't know. I'll probably be scraping C's, if I'm lucky, so I can't really aim too high."

"Connor, you were predicted As in most subjects before the fire! I don't want you doing crap just because of a stupid little slip up. I believe in you, Con. I want you to believe in yourself. Do I need to go all Lady Macbeth on you?"


	17. Beaten

Connor was the happiest that he'd been for a while as he walked home with Imogen in the afternoon, now that there were no traces of the alcohol from the night before on his breath. The morning they'd spent had been just as good-if not better- than the night before, as they laughed away their hangovers and talked away happily, comfortable in each others' company.

His footsteps were light as he practically skipped through the door, shouting his mother's name and announcing that he was home. Silence replied, and Connor's smile faded a little as his heart fluttered with worry. He wandered through to the living room expecting the worst, but it had been a little bit of an anti climax.

But he could tell all wasn't well. Christine was sitting blank faced, the phone noticeably sitting beside her.

"Mum," he whispered, wandering over and reaching for her hand. "What's happened?"

"Your dad's girlfriend had her baby, Connor," she attempted a smile, but something was clearly bothering her. "He called to ask if you wanted to go and see the wee girl."

"I won't go if you don't want me to," his grip on his mother's hand tightened.

"I'm...I'm not stopping you from going."

"We're doing well, mum. I'm not letting the progress you've made have been for nothing. And I don't care about dad; he broke his promise, just like you said he would."

"I'm sorry, Connor," her head bowed down. "I really am."

"Come on," his voice heightened with a fake enthusiasm. "No going backwards."

"How was the party? You seemed... happy; I thought something was wrong with you."

"Imogen and I..." he grinned. "We're closer again."

"I was worried about you before." The subject changed. "I thought that the truth getting out was going to push you over the edge."

"I'm fine, mum. And if I'm not fine, then I'll come talk to you, or I'll talk to Imogen or Kevin or _someone._ I'm not going to go and start fires again."

"Have you thought about speaking to someone, Connor?"

"Mum-" his voice rushed, and he just couldn't seem to get the words out.

"How did this even become your coping mechanism, son? Was it that fire in our old house a few months ago?" Christine was just glad not to be talking about what she'd been slightly upset by before.

"I don't even know. It started small. Little fires in the wood which could be put out with a bit of water. That... that fire made it worse," he wasn't fond of speaking about it, but he couldn't help but admit that it was helping to get it off his chest. "Before, it was just the flames, but... I was starting to want to... to do some damage; to actually burn something. And in that spur- with that kind of urge-... I couldn't control it. It was like I'd lost the ability to think; like my mind had no control over what I was doing... like my mind didn't even exist."

"Connor, it's not... Everything may be okay right now, but if you get upset by something how can we be sure that you won't fire start again?"

"What's speaking to some shrink going to do to help? Some complete stranger sticking their nose into our business?"

"You can't knock it until you try it."

...

It was naive for Connor to expect that everything was going to go smoothly from now on; he'd almost forgotten that the entire school now knew of his horrible deed. Of course, he was eventually reminded of the knowledge by the one and only Barry Barry, whose manipulative whispers hissed away in his ears. If he thought getting kicked while he was down was bad, getting kicked while he was actually happy was ten times as worse. He couldn't even ignore him and try and focus on his work, as Nikki had finally cottoned on to his lack of productivity in completing any of it and had roped him in to joining in with one of the rest of the PRU's lessons which unfortunately involved speaking with a partner, which for Connor meant enduring an hour of Barry's snide remarks until Miss Boston would finally let him get on with an essay or something.

"Dynasty told me you were at that party the other night," Barry smirked. "I'm surprised you didn't burn the place down."

"That's enough Barry," Miss Boston glanced over, before returning back over to help Scout and Rhiannon.

"Come on mate, I'm only messing with you," he punched Connor in the arm, a little too forcefully for his liking. "Don't go starting any fires."

He knew he shouldn't have, but he couldn't bear it much longer. Much to Miss Boston's disapproval, he stormed out of the classroom. The teacher chased after him, understanding that maybe she should have been firmer with Barry.

"Connor, Barry was way out of line back there," Nikki was obviously sympathetic. "You can't get angry like this."

"I needed to get out, Miss," he leant against the wall. "If I'd have stayed in there I'd have punched him."

"You can't let the anger get to you."

"Stop acting like you understand! I'm fine! I just needed to get away from him!" he darted off again, and Nikki knew trying to catch up with him would be a lost cause.

The bell rang for lunch, and Connor could hear it from the spot not too far from the school he'd sought refuge in whilst hiding away from Miss Boston. Just as he was about to head home, not in the mood to spend another two and a half hours in the PRU, he could hear the familiar drawl close by.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" Barry taunted, standing with a group of other boys, before he finally got close, dragging Connor aside.

Connor kept his mouth shut, knowing that trying to fight back would be a stupid move. Some of Barry's friends spat at him, throwing a couple of punches as he sat there, letting them tear away at him like savages.

"Bet you're loving this," Barry smiled, flicking a lighter in front of his face and threatening to burn him with it. "Look at that fire, Connor! Look at it!"

"Oi!" Mr Clarkson called out, having noticed the fight from the window of his classroom.

The group separated, running away in every direction to avoid being identified. Connor remained on the ground until Mr Clarkson finally helped him up, glaring at him with a look of concern.

"Come on," the teacher placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'll take you to the nurse, and alert Mr Byrne."

"I'm fine," he mumbled.

Although it was obvious that this was a complete and utter lie. His lip was stained red, having been burst open when one of them had shoved their fist into his face, and it would have been no surprise had he woken up with a black eye the next morning. His entire body was aching from being shoved against the ground, and it was even more obvious that he'd been deeply shaken by what had just happened, from the horrible shaking of his hands and the redness of his eyes.

"That's the biggest lie I've ever heard," he sighed, and Connor eventually gave in.


	18. Aftermath

Unbeknownst to the recent attack on Connor, Imogen, Kevin and Dynasty found themselves sitting in the lunch hall. Imogen couldn't help but notice Kevin's wide eyes, staring towards a girl in the lunch line.

"Scout?" she smiled amusedly. "I'm surprised... but I can see it."

"I'm not being that obvious, am I?" Kevin looked a little flustered.

"So you like her then?" Dynasty grinned. "Know what? I've only just realised Connor's not here."

"Is he even in?" Imogen shrugged,slightly confused.

"Yeah," Kevin nodded. "I saw him at break."

"Anyway, we need to set you and Scout up," Dynasty smiled again.

"No... come on guys just leave it okay?"

"Aw poor Kev's all shy."

"I don't want you two meddling, that's all. I'll act upon how I feel when I feel ready, okay?" he stood up. "I'm going to go find Connor."

...

Admitting his defeat, Connor sunk back into his chair in the pastoral support room, having discovered that the school nurse wasn't available. His bones aching and his good mood dashed, he felt like every little bit of life had been drained out of him; or more accurately, beaten out of him. He looked up, almost forgetting that Mr Clarkson was even there; why did he even care anyway?

"You don't have to stay here, sir," he sighed, shoving his head into his grazed hands.

"I need to find out who it was to pass on to Mr Byrne anyway, and I don't think it would be too fair asking you right now," Mr Clarkson smiled. "Things are tough for you at the moment, aren't they?"

"Thought things were okay until today. Just when I thought I couldn't hate Barry Barry more."

His breath hitched a little, the anger filling his chest like the room had been filled with poison. The urge wasn't as sudden this time. It crept up on him, it's cold fingers clasping his shoulder and pulling him back. He hated himself for even considering the thought, but once it had dug its way into his brain, there was little he could do to dispel it. Tom instantly noticed Connor's discomfort, and looked to him with concern.

"If you need to talk to me, I'm here to listen," he spoke gently.

"I-" he paused, trying to hold back the lump in his throat. "It doesn't matter okay?"

"Connor-"

"Just leave it okay?" he was shivering by this point, the urge slowly finding its way into his skin.

"You called me down here-" Christine stopped, not fully away of what was happening until she opened the door and saw Connor.

Tom pulled her aside so Connor was just out of earshot, explaining fully what hadn't been explained over the phone. Aside from the cuts and bruises forming on his body, Christine new fine well what was on her son's mind. It was blatantly obvious from the feverish shaking of his hands and the hunch of his back indicating the uncomfortable nausea that was plaguing him. Knowing he'd crack if the urge was left to fester, she had no choice but to explain it to Tom, albeit with a bit of reluctance.

"He can't help it Tom," Christine sighed. "He doesn't want to, but he can't prevent that feeling.

"I know," Tom whispered, before finally raising his voice so Connor could hear. "Don't worry. We won't leave you alone. I promise."

"I'm sorry," he sighed, bowing his head again trying to regain his composure. "I want to go home."

"I know son," she nodded, but knew that he would find it difficult to refrain when left to his own thoughts.

"The PRU isn't working out for you is it?" Tom questioned after a moment of silence, to which Connor nodded. "If you're going to be staying this afternoon, you'll be in class."

"Sorry, but Michael's held up with a parent phone call," Sonia's head peeked through the door. "He told me to to tell you to meet him in his office at the end of the day."

"So I have to wait until then?" Connor looked up, his eyes wide with fear.

"Like I said, you don't need to go to the PRU. And you're in my class with a double period for the rest of the day," Mr Clarkson smiled sympathetically. "If you don't want to return to the PRU I'll go and speak to Miss Boston."

"Thank you so much, sir. I can't stand it there."

...

"You can't just take him out of the PRU like that, Tom!" Was Nikki's response to what the other teacher was requesting.

"Come on Nikki, you and me both know he's doing worse here than he was doing in class," Tom argued. "And we can't exactly expect him to sit in a class with Barry Barry after what he did today."

"I know he made a few comments in class, but I didn't think it bothered Connor that-"

"He and a group of others attacked him outside. Nothing can be done until later on because Michael is tied up with other things."

"Then of course, let be in class. Is he okay?"

"Just superficial injuries, but he's quite shaken up," Tom of course held back from telling her about what was more worryingly eating away at Connor's mind, knowing that Nikki wasn't exactly the best person to try and deal with it.

...

"You're speaking to Scout at some point this week whether you like it or not, Skelton!" Dynasty patted the boy on the shoulder as they walked into the English classroom."

"And if you don't we'll take it upon ourselves to-" Imogen went to speak, before noticing a familiar face as she took her seat in the class. "Connor..."

"What happened?" Kevin asked about the cuts and bruises forming on his friend's face. "And why are you here?"

"Your brother is what happened," he pointed towards Dynasty.


	19. Discussion

Connor remained silent, only muttering responses when he felt like he had to. He'd have much preferred to have spent the last two hours of his day in the cooler, but Mr Clarkson had kindly informed him that that wouldn't have been possible, as some younger kid had spewed over the whole room, which was also why the nurse was unavailable. His fuse was coming to an end, and it was only a matter of time before he was going to explode. The urge may have worked up on him, but now it was worse than ever, like a fiery pit flickering away in his stomach. Once again, he found it hard to look at Imogen's scar, it reminding him of how much he felt he deserved what Barry did to him. In his mind, he deserved every single hit.

"Macbeth in this scene is completely different from how he was at the beginning," Mr Clarkson explained, drawing a mind map up on the board. "Before he had his doubts about committing murder, but now he doesn't care about any of the consequences."

If only that applied to Connor. He wished he could just act on impulse; to run away and burn away his problems without a care in the world. Yet that was not the case. Even the slightest flicker of the thought sent him into a pool of self hatred, and the worst part? It only added to the urge. It provided him with more fuel for the fire; more problems to burn away.

"In groups, I want you to create a mind map about the changes in Macbeth's character."

It was almost as if Tom had planned it, to finally get Connor to confide in his friends. He hadn't even told them not to go off track, like he usually did, and the kids took full advantage.

"What exactly happened, Con?" Imogen smiled towards him, realising how tense he was.

"Barry Barry and a group of... I don't even know... Ten others?" he looked uncomfortable at the mention of the attack. "They just... beat the heck out of me."

"Like I said, Barry will not be getting away with this-" Dynasty shook her head.

"Please just don't get involved. I'm fine. I understand why they did what they did, and it's getting sorted out at the end of the day... So leave it yeah?"

"Is you being back in class a permanent thing?" Kevin asked.

"Yeah, I think so."

He blanked them again, not once uttering a word as they finally got on with the task. As time progressed, he knew he wouldn't be able to resist the urge this time. His inhibitions were beginning to float away, building the strength of his more subconscious thoughts. The class went by quickly, luckily for Connor.

"Mr Byrne just sent me an email," Mr Clarkson told Connor as the rest of the class dispersed, the pair waiting for Christine."The meeting will have to wait until tomorrow. He's really busy."

"No big deal," Connor smiled half heartedly. "Thanks for today, sir."

"No problem. Are you okay?"

"I guess," he shrugged. "It's just difficult, you know?"

"Your mum said that you weren't fond of the idea, but I really think you should consider speaking to some kind of professional."

"I know..."

"What you're dealing with... The pyromania, and from what your mum has said, the depression... It's a mental illness. Getting it sorted out is the best thing you can do."

"How's Josh doing in Manchester?" Connor changed the subject.

"Great. He's doing brilliant-" Tom smiled as Christine joined them in the classroom. "Things will get sorted tomorrow. Don't worry about it okay?"

...

He was shaking by the time he reached his room, his nostrils flaring as the desire became even harder to contend with. Yet it would have been impossible to make an escape; Christine was watching him like a hawk, knowing he'd live to regret it if he gave in.

He wished his capacity for thinking could have been ripped from him. He hated himself. He disgusted himself. It was with a great fall of the heart that he discovered that he now had little care for the consequences, and all that was standing between him and starting a fire was his mother's watchful eye. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to block out his thoughts.

Unlike his mother's withdrawals from alcohol in the past, which were much more of a genuine physical reaction to being without her coping mechanism, how Connor felt was nothing to do with his body craving the fire; it was all in his mind. The shaking, the nausea, the quickness of his breath; he was panicking, without the knowledge of a sufficient coping mechanism to calm him. You'd have thought, after years of being deprived of his mother's comfort, that he'd have craved it more now that it was in abundant supply. He'd grown accustomed to being stuck in his own head, and whilst it may not have been healthy for him, he couldn't bring himself to accept the help he was being given.

"Come on, Connor," Christine's voice was gentle, but Connor still couldn't bring himself to accept the concern. "I'm worried."

"I'm fine," he sighed, his fists curling up further as he tried to calm down.

"Can I come in?" she opened the door, not waiting for her son's response. "I'm going to give it a miss on my AA meeting tonight."

"No."

"I was already considering not going any more, Connor. I don't need it now."

"Look, I'm fine okay? I was just reminded that everyone knows now; that what I did was horrible. Like... I deserved what Barry did today, mum."

"Don't you dare say that!"

"But I did! What he did today is nothing compared to what I did. All the fight did was scare me a little and give me a busted lip; but that will go away. I destroyed part of the school, I scarred Imogen's face...-"

"It's no more your fault than it is mine, Connor. I was selfish; I stupidly didn't notice how much my drinking was bothering you. I remember finding your sketchbook after I... screamed my head off at you in the school house-"

"What about it?" Connor's eyes widened, knowing the drawing she must have been talking about.

"The drawing of you with the fire... It all just clicked into place," Christine sighed. "Look, you don't have to go in to school tomorrow. I'm going to try and get you an appointment to speak to someone; the police offered it, and when you refused they still told me just to give them a call and make an appointment if you changed your mind."

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm going to try and sleep."


	20. Breathe

**The whole Kevin/Imogen thing is just me expressing my confusion about the little Jack/Imogen thing in the latest enemy, because up until now he's been a bit of a background character and out with their storyline... Ah well.  
**  
Imogen made sure to get into school a few minutes early to secure a quiet spot in the student common room to spend her two morning study periods. What with all that had went on in the past few months, she'd fallen behind on much needed exam preparation for the upcoming preliminary exams and then finals not long after. To say that she was stressed would be an understatement; she was freaking out. She wanted to do well; teachers were expecting her to, and her mother would without a doubt be disappointed if she didn't.

It wasn't that she wasn't capable of it; it was just that she was so unprepared. Even after months of studying the text, she still couldn't really get her head around the symbolism within The Great Gatsby, and that everything Miss Diamond had taught about carbon compounds had gone right over her head.

"Alright, Im?" Kevin wandered over, pulling some of his folders out of his bag as he sat beside her.

"Nope," she sighed. "I'm so going to fail these exams..."

"It's going to be fine-"

"Says the human calculator."

"Come on," Kevin grinned, looking over to see what subject she was trying to study. "You're not going to fail. I'll help you study. What subject?"

"All? There's just so much to learn... and with everything that's been going on I just haven't actually had time to learn it."

"Is everything okay now? I mean... With the fire and Connor and stuff? I mean I know everyone's been fussing over him but what about you? Are you okay?"

"I... Nobody's actually asked me that since..."

"You've probably got more reason to not be than he does-"

"Don't say that, Kev. But I... Thank you. I'm fine. It's difficult, yeah... trying to move past it whilst Connor's still stuck in the same place, but I've grown used to the scar I guess," she smiled gratefully, playfully punching him playfully in the shoulder. "What did I do to deserve such a good friend? Anyway, have you spoken to Scout yet?"

"I... I don't really speak to her... I can't just go up to her and expect her to want to go out with me."

"You'd rather be friends first?"

"I'd rather like her for her, not just how she looks, I guess?"

"You have like... a friend crush? You want to be her friend?"

"Yeah."

"Then just say hi once in a while- become her friend, you idiot!"

"Fine. If I'm an idiot I can't help you study," he smirked, before opening a text book and getting a pen out.

Imogen couldn't help but smile as he started writing out some notes, looking up once or twice to explain. She'd not felt that happy in a guy's presence since her and Connor were on great terms. She wasn't exactly falling for Kevin as such, but then again, she wasn't exactly falling for Connor either until that party at the school house. Her realisation that she wouldn't actually be too bothered by getting closer to Kevin was discovered with a little fall of the heart; she felt guilty, especially when they'd gotten on so well at Dynasty's party. She wanted things to work out with Connor; she really did. It was just that there was only so much of unhappiness she could take without cracking under the pressure, and with Connor being pretty unstable, being his girlfriend would be difficult to handle.

"Earth to Imogen?" It doesn't help that Kevin's words are exactly what Connor always used to say whenever she wasn't wearing her hearing aids. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Just in my own little world, sorry," she smiled.

...

Run-down, exhausted and just generally not in a good place, it was only a matter of time before it all had a physical strain on Connor and now it had, leaving him stuffy nosed, coughing and feverish. Bruises had formed around one of his eyes, making him look a little bit like a lopsided panda, and whilst the swelling of his lip had subsided a little, it still hurt like hell and threatened to bleed every time he accidentally brushed his teeth against the cut. Obviously, it wasn't a particularly good idea to do what he was planning to do in such a state, but that wasn't going to stop him.

Christine had tried making an appointment for him to speak to someone, but the earliest they could make it was the next Monday evening. Still, he wasn't exactly fit for school, and Christine wasn't particularly up for leaving him alone, so finally she gave in, phoning her mother for the first time in months.

"Mum," she sighed, her voice twitching a little.

"Christine?" her mother was confused for a second. "I'm happy to hear your voice!"

"I'm sorry I haven't called... Things have been absolutely hectic..."

"Oh I know- Connor's been calling me when he's been struggling. Poor kid!" it was the first she'd heard of this, but she just assumed that these discussions must have started up when she was too busy drinking to speak to him kindly. "So is there anything in particular you need?"

"I had no other choice but to call you. Connor's not doing particularly well-"

"One of his 'urges'? Stick him on the phone and I'll knock some sense into him."

"I've got to get to work, and I really don't want to leave him alone just in case-"

"Don't worry, I'm on my way."

"Thank you so much mum."

"Anything for my daughter! I'm proud of you."

...

"Gran!" Connor managed to use the little energy he had left to sound at least a little bit excited.

"It's nice to see you, boy!" she grinned, pulling him into a hug. "You're still just skin and bone; you need to put some meat on, love."

"I really need to go; I'm already late," Christine frantically grabbed her coat and left quickly.

"I'm going to go sleep now," Connor shrugged, not waiting for his grandmother's response.

That had been a complete and utter lie. As horrible as he felt, he could at least relieve himself a bit. Even before he'd woken up to the mother of all colds, he'd come to the conclusion that this was what he was going to do. In fact, it had almost willed him on more- the urge was just making him feel worse and he at least wanted to be rid of the nausea that sat uncomfortably in his stomach. Once he was sure that his Gran was in the living room with the door shut, he slid past the hall and out of the front door, darting towards the woods as fast as his aching legs would take him.

At first, the small fire settled him, wiping out the urge effortlessly. Yet as time progressed, the thick sooty smoke rose in the air and caught his throat, sending him into a coughing fit. Normally, this would be the moment where he'd put out the fire, but obviously this wasn't exactly possible when he was coughing up a lung. Still wheezing a little, he stumbled onto the bench and watched the flames spread across the floor slowly, with not much to be done to stop them. The thought of the fire getting worse made him anxious, and unluckily for him this anxiety just made his chest even tighter. Thankfully, the leaves below began to dwindle, and soon enough, the fire went out by itself before it could engulf the forest- and Connor- in it's blazing glory.

He leant dizzily on the bench, still unsettled by what he'd almost just done. The urge had vanished, yet his anxiety was still being channelled somehow, making him instantly regret what he had done. The smoky air still bothered him a little, and found himself desperate to leave, even though he didn't exactly feel like he was up to walking the short distance back to his house. He staggered back to the house, collapsing down onto the front steps in tears without even realising that his worried grandmother was standing by the door.

"I've been worried sick, Connor!" she exclaimed, helping him up into the house. "Come on inside, it's freezing!"

"M'sorry," he mumbled tiredly. "I gave in. I..."

"Hey it's okay," she pulled him close, and he buried his head into her shoulder. "All that matters is that you're okay..."

"I almost set all the trees on fire-... I couldn't breathe...-" he was still hyperventilating in fear.

"Come on, you just need to calm down," she lulled, assisting him through to the living room. "Shh..."


	21. Rush

"You're late," Mr Byrne glared sternly as Christine wandered into the staff room just as break was about to begin.

"Excellent deduction, Sherlock," Christine smirked. "I didn't have a class this morning."

"That doesn't mean you can go skiving Christine! It's not first period any more- Tom had to cover for your class..."

"Well I'm sorry that my son was ill-"

"He really needs to work on his attendance if he actually wants to pass these exams-"

"Well aren't you delightful this morning?"

"I'm only stating the truth. This better have nothing to do with-"

"Before you say it, it's got nothing to do with what happened yesterday," Christine sighed. "And I thought we were on good terms."

"This has nothing to do with us. This is to do with work, and quite frankly I'm just a little annoyed that you've shown up late, and that your son is clearly displaying signs of apathy towards his school work-"

"He'll be in tomorrow, alright?"

"Did you manage to get him an appointment with a counsellor? Tom said-" Michael was cut of by the ring of Christine's phone.

"I need to answer this Michael," her eyes widened with worry at the sight of her mum's name on the caller ID.

She wandered over, hoping to get some privacy, but Michael wandered over curiously, obviously noticing that the call had something to do with Connor. Christine ignored him, not seeing the point in starting another argument over something stupid.

"Mum?" her voice was fast, desperate for an answer.

"I thought I'd just say Connor isn't doing too well. He..." her mother's voice was hesitant, unsure about how to handle the situation. "He's not feeling great at all."

"Is he okay?" Christine's fears were confirmed.

"He's panicking... Panic attack kind of panicking."

"Everything alright?" Michael's initial attitude had changed, noticing the authenticity of the look upon her face.

"Not really," she sighed. "But I've got a class in fifteen minutes so I really need to go. I'll just have to deal with it at lunch, seeing as you're under the impression that work comes first."

"Don't be like that Christine-... I'm just saying that these children are in the middle of preparing for important exams and if they don't have a committed teacher-"

"I've told you I'm not going to run off back home Michael, so just hold the lecture would you?"

"Christine, a word?" a sympathetic looking Tom appeared by the door just as the bell for break rang, signalling for her to come with him.

She followed him towards the English block and he opened the door of his classroom.

"Sorry for not being here, and you having to cover my class," Christine sighed, leaning against one of the tables.

"It was no bother," Tom responded calmly. "Your son was the main priority- is he alright?"

"He's not good at all. But Michael won't exactly be too happy if I leave."

"And I though you and Michael got on well... If I didn't have a class next I'd drive down and check. Maybe you could ask Audrey-"

"And have her snooping around my house? I called my mother over this morning so it's not as if he's alone...- But I think he gave in, Tom."

"What class have you got next?"

"Um...Year Twelve's," she sighed, flustered by the situation. "Connor's class for a double period."

"Run home at lunch. I'll find someone to cover your class if you don't get back on time."

"Thank you, Tom."

...

"Where is everyone?" Christine sighed, when she realised that only a few people had turned up to the lesson.

"Geography trip," Kevin smiled, having swapped his usual seat to sit beside Imogen whilst Dynasty sat beside Jack and the other remaining classmates scattered throughout the room. "Where's Connor, miss?"

"He's not well," she looked down, pretending to be looking at something on her desk. "Anyway, there's no point going ahead with the lesson I was going to do... Go ahead and use this period to study for the upcoming exam. Kevin, could I speak to you for a second?"

"Uh sure miss," he shrugged, following her outside the door.

"Don't worry you're not in trouble," she laughed at the apprehension in his gait. "It's about Connor."

"He's alright isn't he? He's not exactly been himself recently-"

"He's struggling, Kevin. Really struggling."

"I thought so."

"Right now, what he needs is people he can turn to."

"I'm way ahead of you miss. We're all here for him. We know he's not doing great..."

"Thank you Kevin. I appreciate it."

The class passed quickly, and she left so abruptly that she didn't stop to say goodbye to any of the students. She darted straight towards her car, almost dropping her bag in the rush and pulled out her mobile, just to check that her mother hadn't sent a text to update her on what was happening. She drove as fast as she could without breaking the law.

Before she'd even opened the door, she could see Connor sitting by the door frame, clutching a pillow to his chest while her mother stood about a foot away, watching worriedly. She was all too reminded of the time when he hadn't the guts to face Imogen not too long after the initial incident, and the stark similarity made her heart ache.

"Connor..."

"I messed up today."

"Connor I know what happened," she sighed.

"I'm sorry. I just couldn't hold back any longer," his voice was hoarse, and as he spoke the tears fell even harder.

"All that matters is that you're okay," she soothed. "It's going to be fine. We're going to get you help and all of the teachers are going to be there to support you. We'll get through this okay?"

"I'm sorry," he spoke again, his breaths getting even faster as another sob overcame him.

"Come here," his head dived into her shoulder as she wrapped her arms around him. "How about we go through and watch a film eh?"


	22. Therapy

"Has it always been like this, Connor?" Christine asked, not too long after her mother had left as they sat watching a film on the sofa. "This urgency to start fires?"

"Not before... It was more just a coping mechanism; spur of the moment, you know?" he shrugged. "I'd feel trapped... and somehow I realised that starting fires helped. Now it's just... I don't know how else to cope... It's like... I panic and I feel sick and I feel cold, and I just know that all that will help is... well yeah."

"Well you're speaking to somebody on Monday. We'll get this sorted okay?"

"I can't be in the house tomorrow- it's just worse... I can't do anything but think-"

"Are you sure you're well enough?"

"I honestly don't care. I just need distraction."

"You scared the hell out of me earlier. I just knew what you'd done even when your gran didn't specify. Michael gave me a hard time today over the fact that you are missing exam preparation, but I don't care about the exams Connor. Your well being comes first as far as I'm concerned, and if push comes to shove and you're not in the right state to sit them now then we can sort something out. If Mr Byrne mentions anything to you tomorrow about it, come straight to me and I'll give him a proper mouthful."

"I know I should probably study, but I just can't bring myself to... I'm just so unmotivated..."

"And don't let things with Imogen bother you either. I think you need to understand that it would be difficult for her at the moment, when you're still dealing with issues, for you two to get back together. Sort yourself out first, eh?"

"Thank you," he nodded, realising that his mother wasn't trying to pull them apart and was talking sense for once.

...

"Well don't you look like you've been hit by a planet?" Imogen appeared by Connor's shoulder as he was at his locker.

"I feel it too," he coughed into his elbow.

"What are you even doing in? You should be at home!"

"Not enough... distraction."

"Are things not good then?"

"Nope."

"It'll get better Con. You know it will."

"I'm sorry, okay?" he's not sure where the sudden apology comes from, but the words escape his mouth nonetheless. "I know we've agreed to just be friends, but the past few weeks I've been stupid and acting like we're going to get back together...-"

"Connor..." Imogen looked a little unsettled. "I want to tell you this now, before you find out later on down the line..."

"What?" his eyes widened with worry. "What is it?"

"I think I'm starting to like Kevin, Connor. I'm not going to act on it. I know that it's just because I... I guess my mind wanted somewhere to place how I felt after what happened with you... And he's been a great friend and..-"

"It's fine," he whispered, shutting his locker. "I-I... I need to go."

"Connor-"

"It's fine. It's not as if you're my property or anything," he smiled, although with a sigh. "I just have to move on."

...

Monday came by strangely quickly, and before he knew it, Connor was sitting in the claustrophobic little waiting room with his mother sitting patiently by his side. He felt out of place as he stared at the obscenely white walls, sometimes accidentally meeting the eyes of the woman in reception and feeling like he didn't belong. He wasn't crazy; or at least, he didn't want to be.

"It's going to be okay," Christine smiled trying to cheer him up a little. "If this isn't going to help then we won't come back, but we can at least try okay?"

"I..." he stumbled over his words. "I don't want to-"

"I know. Come on, you'll be okay-"

"Connor Mulgrew?" a woman appears by the door. "If you would like to come through?"

The corridor she leads him down seemed to last forever, and with every step on the musty blue carpet, his gait became more hesitant and his anxiety became more obvious.

"I'm Ashley," she grins uncomfortably. "Now today, I don't think we'll get round to anything particularly helpful. I just want to talk about how you are feeling, and why you think you might feel this way."

She questioned him harshly, begging him for an answer even when he wanted to hold back or didn't have one. 'When was the first fire you started?' 'What do you think started it?' 'How does it make you feel?' 'Why do you do it?' It hadn't helped a bit; it'd just made it worse. All the talk about fire made his head pound as his thoughts slowly drifted away from his head.

"I want an answer, Connor. What are you coping with that's made you turn to fire?"

"You know."

"You need to speak about it, Connor."

"Mum used to drink a lot. I remember having to lie to my teachers about why she couldn't come to parents' night, and whenever I wasn't well I'd just have to look after myself because she couldn't even look after herself let alone me... And it got worse lately. A few months-... I... You know... Started the big fire and my girl-... friend got scarred," his words blurred together as he spoke too quickly. "Mum's sorted herself out now. I just have to get rid of the coping mechanism."

"That's our hour up," she sighs. "I'm going to recommend that you be exempt from the upcoming exams you told me about. I do not feel that you are emotionally stable enough to sit them."

He practically staggered down the hall, crashing into Christine's arms as soon as he reached the waiting room. Talking about what life had been like had robbed him of all the happiness he felt. Now he was just scared; scared that his mother would fall back onto the drink, scared that he'd lose Imogen as a friend now that she was falling for Kevin, and scared that everything he'd done up until this point to help himself had been for nought. The urge metastasises differently this time. No nausea. No shivering. No debilitating thoughts. Just an uncontrollable need for destruction.


	23. Relapse

Destroy what exactly? The school? Someone else? Himself?

He was already on the path to self-destruction by even considering what he was about to do. He doesn't even care any more; it wasn't as if he'd get into university with the criminal record he already had. He didn't even hold the capacity to think; his thoughts weren't about nothing more than the practicalities of how to orchestrate his plan. It wasn't even Connor; not really. He had merely been consumed by the pyromania; engulfed in the flames he'd set around himself.

He made it through his morning classes, and once lunch was over, he knew it was time. The kitchen and cafeteria were clear. It was time to put his plan into action.

...

The bell sounded. Panic ensued. Despite the warning not to run, pupils were running anyway in a mad dash to get out of the school. Sian, Tom and Michael remained in the building as the other teachers left, making sure that the pupils got out first. Within seconds, Tom realised that the smoke bellowing from the cafeteria was completely blocking off the way to the PRU, so there was most definitely a few students and a teacher stuck somewhere in the building, and there was always the prospect of pupils still being by the kitchen or cafeteria.

"Have you seen Maggie?" Grantly Budgen grabbed the shoulder of Audrey worriedly as they waited with all of the pupils outside, desperately trying to find his wife. "The fire was in the kitchen-"

"Just stay calm Grantly," Miss McFall calmly replied. "She's coming over! She's okay!"

"I-It's... What if it's my fault?" she fretted, delving straight into Grantly's hug.

"It's not your fault, darling," he sighed. "It's not your fault."

Imogen broke away from her class as the rest of them dispelled from the line they'd been arranged into, desperately trying to find Connor, Kevin and Dynasty. She couldn't bear to think that any of them were still in the building. She found Dynasty near another class having just found Kasey, but the two boys were still nowhere to be seen.

"Miss Mulgrew!" she rushed over at the sight of her. "Connor-... I think he's still in there... and Kevin and I can't see anyone from the PRU either..."

"He'll be okay," she sighed, almost letting the tears spill. "He has to be okay..."

...

"The smoke's coming up the hall!" Scout called out, standing by the door.

"Everybody just calm down," Miss Boston called out, but the smoke was beginning to creep even closer. "Nobody open the door!"

"We should put cardigans or something down, miss," Rihannon calls out. "Stop the smoke from coming through."

The class all crouched down on the floor, and remained silent. No one dared to speak, and there was little they could do. Opening the door and trying to run would be a lost cause, and they couldn't quite decide whether opening the window and trying to get out would be a good idea.. Miss Boston made the decision to wait, considering that fire engines were most definitely on their way; a decision that would prove to save their lives.

...

The three teachers scoured the parts of the school that they could, vigilantly ensuring that everyone was outside. After one last check, they came to the conclusion that they'd looked everywhere and headed back out to calm the students and wait for the arrival of the fire engines.

"We are aware that there is a group of pupils from the Pupil Referral Unit stuck inside," Mr Byrne announced. "But we need to identify who else is still inside the building."

"Kevin's not here," Chalky called.

"And Connor too," Christine choked out.

The sirens could be heard getting closer as the fire engines pulled into the playground. The pupils looked up, watching as an entire section of the school was engulfed by the flames. Despite probably expressing their desire for the school to be burned down on many an occasion, most of the pupils had been reduced to sobbing messes. The arrival of worried parents also caused havoc, as there was little way to control whether anyone had left or not.

Imogen and Dynasty clung near Christine and Chalky, desperately craning their necks as the firemen darted in. Finally, the group from the PRU emerge. All of them were coughing, and their faces were stained with ash, but thankfully most of them were okay. Barry was slightly more breathless than the others, and Scout too looked frail as she crouched down near Maggie and Grantly and tried to calm her breathing.

About ten minutes later, Imogen noticed Kevin being walked out of the front door. He could barely hold himself up as he was helped over towards the ambulance team. From first glance, she could see that he'd sustained a burn on his arm, but the smoke inhalation was the most obvious problem. The paramedics lay him down, but he struggled against them as he coughed and coughed.

"What about Connor?" Christine sobbed.

"They've found him in one of the nearby empty classrooms," the fireman wandered over. "They're just trying to get him out now. We think some of the building may have collapsed which is obstructing his way out, but he was responding to us just moments ago."

"Thank you..." she sighed. "Thank you very much..."

"We don't know how much smoke got into the room or if he's sustained any burns, but whatever happens the paramedics will sort it out, alright?" he comforted her. "And don't let it worry you if he's brought out on a stretcher with the neck brace as a precaution. We think that the fire has caused some of the internal structure of the building to collapse, and we don't know if any of it may have impacted with him."

"Just... make sure he's safe... Please..."


	24. Hospital

He can't think straight. He vaguely hears the firemen calling out to him, and he muffles a response. He can't breath, feeling the hot smoke burning away at his lungs. He's in pain, but he's so distant that he barely even cares about the rubble piled on top of him. He's barely even aware if he's conscious. Everything is murky.

...

"Connor-" Christine called out as the stretcher finally emerged. "Oh god Connor..."

Despite the presence of the neck brace, it became obvious that the injury he'd picked up was to the head. Blood; and lots of it. The red gunk oozed from the wound on his head, and the mere fact that he was unconscious sent the onlookers into panic.

Christine's feet couldn't drag fast enough towards the ambulance. Her heart felt like it was deflating in her chest, and each breath grew harder and harder to take. The ambulance was about to set off, and she couldn't bring herself to join him.

"What hospital?" Michael asked the paramedics calmly.

"Southern general," the driver called out as he began to drive off.

"I'll give you a lift," he hurried towards his car.

Parents had already shown up to take their kids away. There was no need for him to still be there.

...

"Imogen!" Sally Stewart called out as she entered the almost empty playground.

Imogen was waiting alone, Dynasty and Kasey having left to see Barry at the hospital because he'd inhaled a lot of smoke. She sighed, her heart filled with worry about Connor and Kevin.

"Mum?" she looked up.

"Thank god you're safe..."

"Mum... Kevin and Connor... They got hurt," she collapsed into her mum's shoulder.

"Come on, we should get home," Sammy sighed. "There's no point heading up to the hospital tonight. They won't let us in to see them."

...

When Connor opened his eyes for the first time, still in recus with the neck brace, he was confused. He thought he was still in his bedroom, so it was unusual that he was surrounded by white walls instead of the black walls of his room. The team of doctors fuss over him, telling him not to panic as he tries to pull the oxygen mask off of his face.

"Mum!" he screamed, confused.

The doctors discussed his injuries as he grew more and more confused. Cranial impact. Possible spinal injury. Smoke inhalation. The sounds were muffled; unfathomable almost. He was distant; so distant that he couldn't even feel the pain that should have been surging through his body. It was like their was a gate, like some sort of barrier, holding back the agony as if to say that he'd been through enough already.

Wait..._Smoke inhalation? _He couldn't remember a fire; he couldn't remember starting a fire.

...

"Chalk?" Kevin, who'd eventually been taken up to one of the wards in the burns unit managed to choke out, as he unearthed from a fitful sleep. "W-what... What happened? The fire... What..."

"There was a fire in the school. You were stuck somewhere... How are you feeling?"

"My head hurts."

"The doctors said it might. You inhaled a lot of smoke, so there's a big chance that you have a bit of carbon monoxide poisoning."

"What about..." he stopped to cough. "Imogen, Dynasty and Connor? They're okay, right?"

"Imogen and Dynasty are safe at home. Connor was pulled out of the building just after you. He's alright, but he's in pretty bad shape."

...

"How is he?" Christine's head shot up at the sight of one of the doctors coming in to the waiting room, after having waited until the early hours of the morning, with only Chalky for company.

"He's going to be okay. We're going to do a few scans to see the extent of his injuries, but he seems to be okay. You should really head home and get some rest."

"I...I..."

"Connor is safe Christine. He needs you to be okay too, and if you neglect your own sleep you aren't going to be."

"I... I don't have a car-"

"I'll drive you," Chalky nodded. "I was about to head home myself."

...

The car ride home was strangely silent. Christine was trying to piece together what had happened, and Chalky was just trying to wrap his head around how he'd deal with the weeks that would follow. There was a doubt on Christine's mind, playing heavily with her thoughts. She couldn't sit there, in double truth, when she knew it was likely that it was her son that was responsible for Kevin's injuries. She didn't understand. He'd been okay that morning. He wasn't shivering like he usually did with the urge, and he didn't seem to be showing signs of having the uncomfortable nausea that also came with it; maybe he'd just learned to hide it?

"How's Kevin?" she finally managed to say. "He didn't look well-..."

"The burn on his arm might scar, and he inhaled quite a bit of smoke but they reckon he'll be okay... And Connor?"

"They hardly let me see him. He's okay, I think... They don't think there's any spinal injury, but I still have to hear from them about his head..."

"What about you? Are you alright?"

Was she? She wasn't so sure.

"What if he did it, Daniel?"

"Christine..."

"He might have."

"Believe in him. Believe that he's moved past that-"

"But he hasn't! I came home last week and he was just... sobbing because he'd almost completely set the forest down in the local park on fire. I... I wouldn't be surprised if this was him..."

"Then he needs you, Christine. Once they've investigated how the fire started they might suspect him if we find that it was started deliberately."


	25. Visit

**I'd just like to ask if anyone would like to check out the 'novella' thing I'm writing for a competition? I can only post 3 chapters, but there's a whole lot more written up on my computer. The link is www . movellas en / book / read /201303042331356607 (remove the spaces)**

Christine practically bombed it down the road towards the hospital the next morning. With little knowledge of how her son was doing, her heart thudded in her chest with worry. It was not so much his physical injuries that even worried her, as she knew that the hospital staff could deal with him. She just couldn't bring herself to think about the possibility that it might have been him that started the fire in his place.

But he'd been okay that morning. He'd been okay. Or maybe he hadn't been, and she'd just not noticed the signs?

"We've run a few precautionary scans on Connor's brain," the doctor explained. "Everything is showing up fine, although from observation he seems to be displaying a few signs of amnesia. Upon speaking with him, he shows little recollection of yesterday's events."

"So the scans weren't accurate or?" she was slightly confused.

"We think that this may be dissociated amnesia. Sometimes it's easier for the mind to forget than to actually deal with what has happened after a traumatic event. And of course, there is always the possibility that he is lying?"

"Can I see him now? Seeing as I was forced away last night?"

Christine was expecting something reminiscent of the nightmarish dramatic scenes from soaps, with him hooked up to all kinds of wires with a machine beeping in the background, but it turns out that he actually seems okay. He's bruised and bandaged up, and he has oxygen because of the amount of smoke he had inhaled, but he seems fine upon first glance. She didn't particularly have the same assurance about his mental health though.

"Hey," she wandered over.

"I can't remember starting it, mum," he stared up at her, his eyes lifeless and cold. "I didn't start it."

"I know son, I know. Don't worry. How are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess. Head hurts, but that's kind of obvious. And my chest."

"There was nothing that would've... triggered you into fire starting the past few days, right?"

"I remember feeling kind of down after the appointment on Monday, but not... not that bad."

"Can you remember anything about the fire?" Christine just wanted for all of her worries to have been misplaced.

"I remember... I don't know. The flames, kind of. I remember there being a fire, but I don't actually remember the fire itself, you know? I might have just got... startled by it... I have no clue."

"Don't worry, Connor," she stroked the back of his hand as he grew slightly more agitated.

"H-how's everyone else? Is anyone else hurt?"

"Imogen and Dynasty got out completely safe, don't worry. Scout and Barry inhaled quite a bit of smoke and are being treated."

"Kevin?" he couldn't help but notice the absence of his name.

"He's on one of the wards. Smoke inhalation and burns to his arm. He's okay so don't fret about it. I was speaking with Mr Chalk last night and he seems to be doing fine. I was so worried last night-"

"They said you needed to go... Get some rest because I'd be in here for a while," he coughed deeply.

...

Imogen practically had to beg her mother to drive her up to the hospital to visit Kevin and Connor and see how they were. She was a giant ball of anxiety, worried that two of her closest friends weren't okay. Unsettled by the constant triggers of the fire that had had happened before that the events of the previous day had brought on, she wasn't particularly in a great mood, but the worry outweighed her own personal angst.

Whatever had been responsible for Connor's okay health that morning seemed to have worn off. His chest ached desperately, the hot and toxic gases from the fire finally started to make him feel the effects. Although the oxygen helped, he still felt awful.

"Hey," Imogen wandered towards his bed hesitantly. "How are you feeling?"

"Like..." he shrugged, unable to find an answer that fully lived up to the pain he felt. "Like death."

"Good news is that school won't be open for a while."

"Does that mean there's bad news to follow?"

"We have to go to another building to sit our exams next month."

"Oh god... I completely forgot... I've still not finished my art final, and-"

"Connor, don't freak out. I think they're going to contact the exam board and extend the deadlines for folio work, at least for those that were injured, and they may be able to give you special permission to do it here as well."

"Mum's probably going to bring piles and piles of books over the past few days so I can study," he laughed, but ended up coughing. "Have you seen Kevin yet?"

"I was just about to go and see him. He texted this morning so I think he's alright. Smoke inhalation and a burn on his arm, but it's nothing they can't fix. You're... You're okay aren't you?"

"The oxygen's helping-"

"No I mean... You know what I mean Connor. I mean... with the fire and all?"

"I barely even remember what happened. One minute I was in a hall, and the next minute it was just... red. I remember running into a classroom, shocked by the fire or something but I have no clue..."


End file.
